


The Night is Full of Stars (and she is not with me)

by Mozzarella



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brother/Sister Incest, Child Abuse, F/M, I'm pretty sure I've tagged incest like four times so if you still don't get it I can't help you, Identity Reveal, Incest, Pregnancy, Rule 63, Secret Identity, Sibling Incest, Though like a lot less than in canon, Unplanned Pregnancy, female!Tarrlok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To cover up an elaborate lie, Noatak once carved young Taraka a betrothal necklace, their 'union' blessed by Yue herself. </p><p>Taraka never told her brother how much the gesture truly meant to her, or about how she loved him more than anyone, treasuring the symbol of their love more than any watertribe wife had ever done before. </p><p>Years later, as a Councilwoman and hero against the Equalist threat, Taraka wore the necklace still, to remind her of the good things in her swiftly darkening life--from her romance with an unassuming yet mysterious nonbender named Lee, to her close friendship with the Avatar. </p><p>Rule63!Tarrlok Noalok, no OCs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Good Days

**Author's Note:**

> Once I started writing, I couldn't stop until I was well over 2000 words. I just hope I won't stop until I reach the end this time!
> 
> Inspired by The Edge of Darkness by Elizabeth and her fem!Tarrlok and Noatak dynamic. Title is a quote from Pablo Neruda.

It was an outdated tradition, but one that still held some significance in the North. It wasn't as though Taraka was unaware of the looks the older boys of the tribe would throw her every time she went out to fetch ingredients for their dinner. It was her idea, in the first place, and after the first week, the rumors flew and Taraka was harassed no longer, though it didn't take long for inquiries of “who the lucky young man” was that had asked for the second child's hand so early to come knocking at their door.

It was one of the few things Yakone didn't care to disparage Taraka about, speaking of how she was freer of distraction if she was uninterested in the affections of boys her age, able to focus on what was more important—her bending.

Her mother, on the other hand, had something to say about her only daughter stealing her betrothal necklace from her room.

At fourteen, Taraka had figured out that she had no interest in anyone in the village. It wasn't that she'd ever had the time to interact with them, only that she didn't think she was missing out on anything at all, with all their bothersome macho posturing, showing off their riches or strength or imagined skill, acting as beneath her as they could possibly act while trying and failing to impress her. Anyway, the only men she ever had time for were her father and brother, and at least she _knew_ them, and loved them all the same, despite her father's hot temper and her brother's cold demeanor.

They weren't always like that, though. Yes, her father was strict, and quicker to anger than when they were children, and yes, Noatak barely spoke to her anymore, even when they were seen side-by-side more often than most siblings, but Taraka stored away every precious moment Yakone voiced his approval of her, the rare times his tone would warm and his expression soften (rarely about waterbending, never about bloodbending, but sometimes about other things, the moments when Yakone would say she was just like her mother and then muss her hair with affection), and Noatak held her hand even when she assumed she was too old to be led, and would wrap an arm around her when she was feeling vulnerable. 

The older she got, the more approval she got from her father. It was a step in the right direction, when she began to take charge in the household and assisting her mother with finances and other things. She learned, by way of the merchants at the docks, how to haggle, and how to use a charming smile here or a quick word there to get people to trust her, and to do what she wanted. “You'd make a grand politician, Taraka!” said a trader from Republic City, when she'd bought a new radio from him, a smaller, more portable one that was apparently all the rage in the fast-progressing south. “You have the looks, the charm, the wit—why, I'll bet you'll make it big the day you leave this place. You belong with the movers and shakers, the big leagues, the fast talkers, not some backwater village full of dense little boys who're falling all over you!”

Taraka's eyes widened as she considered it. “You really think so?” she said in a measured voice, hiding her suspicion easily. The man nodded as he packed the radio up for her to take home. He didn't seem to be lying, and it wasn't like he was offering Taraka any deals. No, this was just an idea, some small talk with big possibilities, no expectations from the man himself but enough to make Taraka think. 

“My dad wants me to go to Republic City one day with my brother,” she said casually. 

“Well if your brother's got half your charm, you'll be running the city within a decade,” the man said easily. 

“I'll consider it,” Taraka said. 

“Well hey, if you ever find yourself considering it hard enough to get on a ferry out, look me up when you get there,” he said, handing her a card. “Ta!” 

Taraka took her package and hurried home. It was a gift for her father, for his birthday, something for the family, and she realized as she slowed her pace that she had another one to give him: an idea. If she wasn't going to master bloodbending the way Noatak could, then there was something else she could do for her father that not even her prodigy brother could achieve.

“Hey, Taraka!” 

She flinched as two boys from the village—what were their names? Tukka and something. Haruk? Hamuk?

“Hey, there's something different about you today. New hair style?” not-Tukka said, exaggeratedly rubbing his chin. Taraka straightened up, giving a fake smile, warm enough not to provoke but cool enough to intimidate. “Oh?” she said. The guy whose name she couldn't be bothered to remember smiled, thinking he'd piqued her interest. Honestly, an ice floe on still waters would be more interesting than him, but Taraka wasn't looking for a fight. Not when she could trick just as easily. 

“Hmm.. new parka?” 

“Come off it, Jaqua,” Tukka laughed, and Jaqua finally said what was on his mind, something that, admittedly, threw Taraka off the slightest bit. 

“You're not wearing your betrothal necklace. Bad breakup?” Jaqua said, and Taraka's hand immediately went up to her collar. She hadn't considered the need when she went out today, too excited for the big ships that had come in from Republic City to bother with idiotic boys. The oversight was definitely back to bite her in the hind. 

“I just forgot it at home,” Taraka said. It was the truth, omitting some details. 

“Is that so? Y'see, me and Tukka were out today, and we saw your mom sewing up some clothes out in the sunlight, wearing the exact same necklace. So I'm thinking, maybe you're not really betrothed. Or maybe the guy you got was so useless he couldn't carve his own necklace.”

“One more likely than the other, of course,” Tukka chimed in. 

“Of course,” Taraka repeated coolly. “Well if you must know,” she began, trying to figure out in that moment what lie to tell this time. “My future husband-to-be is waiting 'til the next full moon to carve my necklace. He's going to ask Yue to bless it before giving it to me, and he's going to carve it out of moonstone, something he had to get from the traders today. My mother just didn't want me going around looking unattached so she lent me hers until that time.” 

It was an absurd lie, though she delivered it perfectly. She hoped it had that 'so farfetched it had to be true' feel to it, and the looks on Tukka and Jaqua's faces told her she had half-succeeded, at least. 

“You're a liar, Taraka,” Tukka said first, though his tone was uncertain. 

“We'll see who's right after the full moon!” Taraka responded, back already turned as she walked away, feeling smug until she found herself standing in front of her own home, wondering how long she'd be able to keep up such a lie. 

_Until the full moon, of course. The everybody will know what a fake you are. Your charm won't work on them anymore. You'll lose your chance to prove your strengths to your father. You've ruined everything with such a trivial miscalculation,_ her traitorous mind supplied. 

“Taraka?” 

She looked up as the light from inside shone out into the dark. She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing out there, but it was already a lot darker than it had been when she'd had her confrontation. Her brother stood silhouetted at the doorway, tall and handsome and stone-faced as always. 

“What're you doing? Come on inside before you freeze,” he scolded. She did as he said and he lifted her parka over her head, letting her acclimate to the warmth within their home. He hung it up as she searched for a ribbon to wrap around the box. 

Taraka loved her brother deeply, even if Noatak wasn't as keen on showing his affection. He was the only young man she saw as worthy, where all the rest were far beneath their family in everything. It wasn't only the bloodbending, either. He was one of the greatest waterbenders of their tribe, and at seventeen, blooming into adulthood, easily the handsomest young man of his age. Though he didn't have Taraka's talent for words, he could smile the way she did—the kind of smile that had people swaying to his whims, that had women swooning and falling all over him. Ever since she was eleven and Noatak was fourteen, and first catching the eye of the girls in their village, Taraka found a smug sort of pleasure in watching Noatak ignore the girls vying for his attention. He seemed unaware of them, at first. At least, Taraka thought so, until one day, she had a good laugh over this one girl who'd faked tripping in front of him, expecting him to carry her when she 'sprained her ankle' and ending up soaked and shrilly screaming when Noatak used his bending to bring her to the healers via ice-slides, propelled by water. 

Some girls were smart enough to back off after that, but as time went on, the display of such advanced waterbending at such an early age and Noatak's ever-maturing good looks had them flocking right back again. It was probably a good thing Yakone was intimidating enough that ordering people to stop hanging around his house worked wonders for Noatak, and eventually, Taraka, when the boys began to do as the girls had done with her brother.

After the sprained ankle girl incident, Taraka and Noatak enjoyed deriding the other equally pathetic attempts to get Noatak's attention. Perhaps Taraka was bitter, but she didn't like the idea of any slush-brained girly girl taking her brother's time away from her. 

“Where were you today?” Noatak asked. “When Mom told me to get out of the house while she fixed her big dinner, I thought I'd join you, but you didn't say where you'd gone.” 

“Sorry,” Taraka said genuinely. “I had to get to the docks early to find a good trader to deal with. I wanted something special for Dad's birthday, so I got him this.” 

She presented the radio briefly by opening the top flap before closing up again and tying the ribbon down. Noatak looked startled, but impressed. “Dad's gonna love it,” he said blankly, and Taraka worried she'd upset him, but then he smiled at her and drew something out of his pocket, placating her worries. 

“I was at the docks too. Must've missed you. But I got something for you when I was looking for something to bring home to Dad,” Noatak said, and he opened the drawstring bag he held in his palm. “Look, remember how you wanted a necklace to keep those idiot ice-whackers off your back? I found this guy selling minerals mined from different parts of the earth kingdom and from other places too, I thought you could use them since Mom won't let you use hers anymore.”

He shook some stones into her hand, beautiful round cuts of jade and aquamarine and quartz and lapis lazuli—and, to Taraka's wide-eyed surprise, moonstone. 

“These are... they're beautiful, brother,” Taraka said, her eyes brimming with unexpected tears. 

“Why are you crying?” Noatak said, sounding more worried than annoyed. 

“I'm not crying,” Taraka said, wiping the tears from her eyes and willing herself not to add any more. “I'm happy. These are amazing, Noatak. Thank you.” 

Noatak stared at her hard before demanding, “Did something happen today?” 

“It's nothing important! Just some stupid guys,” Taraka said. Noatak raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated, “They asked me why I wasn't wearing my betrothal necklace and they knew it was Mom's, so I told them my husband-to-be was carving mine out of moonstone, but that he'd wait until the full moon so he could have it blessed by Yue before he gave it to me. It was a dumb lie, but with this it might just work!” she said, holding up the moonstone. “Thank you, Noatak!” 

They met in a hug, one she realized they hadn't shared for years. She smiled into his shoulder, doubly relieved that he wasn't pulling away. 

“I could...” Noatak said quietly. 

“What?”

“I could carve it,” Noatak said. “If you don't have to worry about it, I doubt they'll suspect you're faking, and I don't go out as often as you do. And all you have to do is do my chores for a month,” he added, smirking. 

“I already do most of your chores anyway, lazy bum!” Taraka laughed. She quieted after a while. “Would you really do it?” she asked uncertainly.

“Of course. Anything for my sister,” Noatak said.

If she'd known then what she would come to know months after that day, she would have called him a liar. 

 

 

* * *

 

Councilwoman Taraka remembered that day. It was one of their happiest days, even with the bloodbending, with the seed of hatred Yakone had planted in his eldest child. Yakone had embraced Taraka when he received his gift, saying it was even better than the radios they'd had in the City when he'd been there. They'd had a wonderful dinner, courtesy of their mother, and Noatak and Taraka had sat with their father out in the stars as Yakone recounted stories of his criminal exploits in the city as a youth, ones that didn't involve his bloodbending or his revenge. He made it all seem so exciting—at least, to Taraka. She wasn't sure what Noatak had been thinking that day, but he'd stared at the half moon for a while, as she and her father talked about the stars, and how they were different in the south. 

Sometimes, Taraka would look up at the stars and remember her father, remember when he was warm and good. She did not deny the evil in him—no, the loss of her brother reminded her of that everyday, but there were still good times. He had been a loving father, if not altogether a good one. He was right, though. 

The stars  _were_ different in the south. 

 

 


	2. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Councilwoman Taraka befriends the Avatar, and another friend of hers is revealed as something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: Lawyer Lee, the non-OC (the character exists even if the persona technically does not). I'd call it a spoiler if it wasn't already obvious. Also, a flashback to an early encounter in the city when Taraka was young and green.

“Avatar Korra. It is an honor to meet you,” Taraka said, bowing theatrically. Tenzin looked entirely unhappy to see her, she observed smugly, but when she mentioned airbender hospitality, he was forced to concede. Though being a woman was not as overblown an issue here as it was in the North, Taraka could still act like the doe-eyed innocent she favored in her teenage days, and in her youth starting out in the Republic. Tenzin may have built up an immunity to it, but it worked remarkably well on people she rarely interacted with, the Avatar included. 

“I had heard rumors, but I didn't think you would be so beautiful,” she said genuinely, testing the waters by laying a cupped hand over Korra's. When she didn't pull away, even seemed to appreciate the attention, Taraka continued along that line. 

“Your empty flattery isn't appreciated here, Taraka,” Tenzin said stonily. 

“It may be flattery, Tenzin, but it's certainly not empty,” Taraka said, drawing truth into her words and using them as she would her lies. 

“Korra is beautiful. Probably would've been the talk of the town if you hadn't kept her locked away,” she said. Korra tensed, not because of Taraka herself, but because of the realization that she was right about Korra's upbringing. “She reminds me of somebody at this age. All beauty and noble grace. And that hair...” 

“Let me guess... you?” Tenzin said derisively, though he was as good as any politician at hiding his contempt beneath subtlety and the quiet and calm airbenders seemed to be adept at. 

“Not at all,” Taraka said, her eyes suddenly becoming distant. “My brother,” she said quietly, her tone so soft that Tenzin stopped drinking his tea, his eyes actually widening at the difference. He quickly regained his composure. 

“Your brother?” he repeated. “I didn't know you had any siblings.” 

“I lost him when I was very young,” Taraka said soberly. She was unaware she had reached out to touch one of the loose tails hanging on either side of Korra's head, and Korra herself seemed focused on Taraka's expression, more honest and vulnerable than any of her usual grand words and gestures. “You have the same hair, the same eyes, almost the same face. I—I'm sorry,” she said, drawing away. “That was inappropriate.” 

“No, it's okay,” Korra said. “I don't have any siblings. I can't imagine what it must have been like to lose one.” 

“Neither can I,” Tenzin said quietly in the corner. Taraka cleared her throat and stood. “I'm sorry for ruining your dinner. I'll be taking my leave.” 

“But wait! Why'd you come here if you were just gonna leave?” Korra asked. 

“I was going to ask you to join me in my task force,” Taraka said, looking over her shoulder. “To take down Amon.” 

The cold fear in Korra's eyes told her everything.

“But I changed my mind,” Taraka said quickly, and she left without another word. 

Halfway down the steps, she heard heavy boots tramping after her, and saw Korra standing on the top steps. “Councilwoman Taraka!” she called, and Taraka looked back.

“Why did you change your mind!?” 

Taraka gave a thin smile. “You remind me of my brother, Korra. I'm afraid my motivations aren't much more complex than that.”

“...You loved your brother a lot, didn't you?” Korra said. 

“More than anything in this world or the next,” Taraka said, not a word of lie in her statement. 

“A lot more people's brothers and sisters are going to get hurt with Amon's movement, aren't they?” Korra said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, I suppose they are.” 

“Well then...” Korra said, swallowing thickly before she forced the rest of the words out. “Consider me part of your task force, Councilwoman. I want to do everything I can to help.” 

Taraka smiled warmly. “Thank you, Avatar,” she said, giving a deep bow.

And when she'd turned away, back to the young southern Water Tribe girl, her smile turned sharp and self-satisfied, knowing she'd just manipulated the Avatar herself into thinking it was her idea. All aside, this night proved to be fruitful indeed.

She drove home to her apartments, wrinkling her nose at the vagabonds, mostly non-benders with some benders among their ranks, littering the lower streets. If there was one thing she learned in her years in Republic City, it was that equality was an illusion, and the whims of the powerful were what ran this city.

Once Taraka finally found a way to be the city's savior, making them think it was their idea to install her as the one true power the way she'd manipulated Korra, she'd fix that.

Noatak had always said equality was important, that nobody should be left in the dirt just because somebody else had natural abilities. It was naïve, but in the grand scheme of things, it was doable, once Taraka was on top. It was always good to have goals. She would build something better for everybody, even if it meant dirtying her hands to do so. For Noatak.

Her hand drifted to the betrothal necklace she wore, part of her usual outfit as the esteemed Councilwoman. Even when she was in Republic City, the necklace had been a good way to deflect those who would question a genteel Water Tribe woman at marrying age. She remembered one night at a bar, when she was in her twenties and working tirelessly as a minor official to one of the city districts—one of the lower, poorer ones, that made her even more aware that she needed to get to the top to help those on the bottom. She thought it would be easy then, though that thought was slowly and surely crushed over the next fifteen years of work.

“Hey. Looking for company or just solitude in a crowd?” a rough voice greeted her. She pointedly ignored the man who'd sidled up beside her, feigning casualness. 

“Married?” he continued when she shrugged an answer. 

“Widowed.” 

“My condolences. Did it happen recently?” 

Taraka looked the guy in the eye, trying to assess the situation. Oddly, he didn't seem all that threatening, or pushy. He seemed genuinely curious, and Taraka couldn't deny he was handsome enough, if on the bony side. His mustache gave him character, and she felt herself easing to his presence.

“No. Almost a decade now.” 

“Ah. Young love,” he said thoughtfully. “They say it lasts forever.” 

“It does for me,” Taraka said wistfully. “What's your name?” she continued. 

“Ah, well see, my name doesn't matter. I'm actually not the kind of man who would woo a fine lady like yourself, if you catch my drift,” he said with drink-loosened, exaggerated wit. “I'm here because my friend over there has been looking at you for the past hour without doing a thing. You see, while he's an effective orator, he's not much of a conversationalist, and I figured, the good friend that I am, I'd break the ice for his sake, so to speak.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Taraka, amused, followed mustache-guy's gaze to where his friend was sitting, and her bravado fell away immediately (as did her breath) when she alighted on the man's face. 

If mustache-guy was handsome, then this man was above and beyond any Taraka had ever seen. His jawline well-formed, his eyes thoughtful and piercing. He was undoubtedly the first man that had ever gotten Taraka's attention in the city, and she felt almost guilty for acknowledging it, her hand swiftly clasping her necklace once more.

“Hey, I don't wanna disrespect anybody's memory,” mustache-guy said quietly. “I know what it's like to lose somebody special. But it's not a crime to try starting fresh. Think you'll give my friend a chance?” 

She almost said yes.

Almost.

“Tell your friend I'm flattered, but...” 

Mustache-guy smiled, laying down a few yuans on the counter. “For your next drink,” he bade as he made his way back.

Fifteen years later and a Councilwoman near her forties, Taraka wasn't sure why she remembered that night. She was quite the topic of conversation in her youth, a rising star and Republic City's number one bachelorette. Even now, there were still many interested parties who saw her as the perfect trophy wife, or as somebody to adore and worship. As much as the second type appealed to her, she didn't want a simpering weakling for a husband.

She didn't want a husband, period, despite her girlhood dreams of family. There was too much at stake, too many variables, and her heart still ached for somebody that was no longer there, so it was impossible for her to fall in love. She knew her father expected her to have children, though. She considered going out on a one night stand and just trying for a child without the complication of a questionable father figure, but as a councilwoman, such scandal had to be avoided.

Almost forty. She wasn't even sure she could have children anymore. It wasn't that she didn't want any—she did, since she was young, wanting the kind of love born of family, something better than she had, but built on the same strong foundations—but she was always too busy and too determined to achieve her goals to think about it.

Perhaps she'd adopt. Yakone wouldn't be happy, but he was old and decrepit anyway, and wasn't Republic City enough for him? No, she wouldn't curse the world with another in a long line of talented bloodbenders, of that she was certain.

Perhaps it was the nostalgia of the unbidden memory that got to her, but instead of going home like she'd planned, Councilwoman Taraka found herself in a bar, much like the one she'd been in over a decade ago—dingy but serviceable, and more importantly, private. It wouldn't do to have the movers and shakers of Republic City seeing their adored Councilwoman in a place frequented by rascals and vagabonds and other unsavory folk.

Not that she had any real problem with these people. No, it was their situation that disgusted her, one she knew she would change, if she just had time.

She drank herself into a stupor, for once disregarding the consequences, forgetting for at least a night that she was Councilwoman Taraka.

The Avatar really did get to her, for all that she'd won the night. In recent years, she'd begun to forget her own brother's face, but the Avatar brought it all back. She remembered his last words before he left them forever, about the Avatar having more power than any other being in the world. And Taraka had just succeeded in manipulating her. Ha! Take that, Noatak.

“You're drunk,” someone said, a voice that made her shiver for all the right reasons. 

“And you seem to have a knack for finding me whenever I'm drunk and alone,” she said muzzily. “Stalking me, are you?”

“Not at all, Councilwoman. The world just seems to love leading me to where you are.” 

She looked blearily up and was briefly blinded by the bar lights overhead. The man who stood, leaning over her, was handsome, handsomer than anybody she'd ever met, though he wasn't one to flaunt it. His looks would have made him a shoe in as a public figure. If only he had the charisma to go with it, and a better name.

“Whaddya want, Lee?” she slurred. 

“You can't drive in this state. Let me take you home.” 

“Hmmm a bit forward, aren't we? Shouldn't you be buying me a drink first?” 

“I think you've had enough drinks for one night, Councilwoman.” She felt the man grip her arm gently. She missed his touch, though she didn't say so out loud. Lee had always had such a firm but gentle touch. 

They met a few years ago, when Taraka was running for Councilwoman, her candidacy and popularity going strong, she found herself getting away from all the hustle and bustle of politics in a small bar where she was sure nobody would recognize her.

She'd been wrong, of course, but at least the man who did turned out to be pleasant company.

He called himself Lee (Taraka had gracefully snorted at such a generic name), dressed in drab grays and silly glasses that did nothing for his face, which, in Taraka's humble opinion, was gorgeous, wasted on a man whose fashion sense was that of a blind wolfbat scratching the inside of a dumpster.

He was pale as an Earth Kingdom man, though his features were oddly familiar, almost Water Tribe. His eyes were a generic Earth Kingdom green, so Taraka figured it was something in the bloodline that made him seem like a man from home.

He had been friendly when they first met. Unusually intelligent, for somebody who was hanging around such a questionable establishment (though Taraka knew she wasn't really one to talk). He was a lawyer, he said, and he followed politics, though he took no part in them. They talked about her political campaign, about the way people were being treated in the lower rings. They talked well into the night, until Lee was called away on urgent business, leaving her no way to contact him, despite their rousing conversation. She'd been so disappointed. Devastatingly handsome, and a good conversationalist? Rare to come by, even in one of the world's most progressive cities.

A few months later, they met once again at an entirely different bar, for the same reason. He enjoyed going to places that weren't frequented by his more “proper” associates and she wanted to drink her weight in good Northern icewine without being recognized or bothered. This time, she got his number, and they'd been meeting up on and off ever since.

At her insistence, he no longer wore drab grays, but his clothing was still drab, this time in dull green. He didn't wear glasses as often anymore, which allowed Taraka to admire his perfect face, which only seemed to get even more attractive with age.

“Come on, Councilwoman,” Lee said, hoisting her up from the chair and wrapping her arm around his shoulder to steady her. “It's good to see you again,” he added. “It's been almost a year since our last outing.”

“Mmm it's good to see you too, Lee,” Taraka purred. He seemed amused by the flirtation, leading her to her car and fetching the keys from her pocket. He set her gently in the passenger seat and drove, not to the upper districts where Taraka lived, but a short distance away, in a non-bender housing district. 

“My apartment. I figured you'd rest better here for the night,” Lee said. 

Taraka was tempted to make as many lewd suggestions as she could fit in the time it took for him to lead her up the steps, but instead said, drunk but honest, “Thank you, Lee. I really am glad to see you again. It's nice to have a friend, especially in such a trying time.”

“I heard. The Equalists,” he said, nodding. “I was worried.” 

“At least somebody is,” Taraka sighed.

“I'd have thought, with your popularity, you wouldn't be short of friends to worry about you when I'm not around,” Lee said. 

“You think so,” Taraka said, “but politics don't exactly leave time for a budding social life. Not one where I have to fake every smile and shake every hand to close every deal, anyway.”

“My condolences, then,” Lee said good-naturedly. He opened a door to an unusually spartan apartment, setting Taraka on the bed, making sure she was comfortable and removing her boots and overcoat. She stretched out like a cat, the sheets unexpectedly soft, almost silky.

“I'll take the couch. Maybe when you wake up tomorrow, we can have a proper conversation that doesn't involve aborted flirtation attempts,” Lee said, shaking his head and smiling warmly. 

“I've never met a man I couldn't charm into doing what I want,” Taraka said. “And what I want right now is taking the couch instead of an opportunity.” 

“Maybe you'd have more friends if you stopped treating people like conquests,” Lee said, but not unkindly. He leaned over Taraka, brushing loose strands out of her face and kissing her sweaty forehead in a tender gesture, one that caught her off-guard. 

_You're far more than a conquest, Lee,_ she didn't say, wrapping herself around a pillow and falling asleep as Lee's shadow disappeared beyond the lit hallway, after lingering at the door for a while, waiting for her to find rest. 

 


	3. The Lawyer and the Politician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lot of talk about marriage, politics, gang violence, equality, and change. 
> 
> Also a bit of kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't figured out who Lee is yet I can't help you (though the very obvious descriptions and allusions about his age and appearance should do that).

Lee was often a candidate in Taraka's mind when she considered possible husbands in the city. Unlike her parents, who had married for love, Taraka considered marriage a political tool, a way by which she could charm people. She'd spent over twenty years honing her craft, every action and publicity stunt a sharpened tool to get the public on her side.

The Equalists were a blunt instrument, destroying public sentiment of the Council bit by bit, Taraka included. Twenty years, she'd spent building her reputation up, only for these monstrous anti-benders to bring it all down.

Among her plans to put herself on the forefront of the public eye apart from the task force, and Korra's role as the Avatar symbolizing Taraka's own power, was the idea of a marriage that would catch the people's attention.

An unassuming, non-bending intellectual of a husband—a lawyer, a respectable occupation, even if he stated that he wasn't rich (and his apartment, though serviceable, certainly proved that to be true)—it was an attractive possibility, almost as attractive as Lee himself.

Taraka may not have _wanted_ a husband, but she'd always been practical about separating what she wanted from what she felt she had to do. Living with Yakone and failing to appease those around her enough to keep her brother around taught her that hard lesson.

If only she'd bloodbent him. If only she hadn't angered her father. If only Noatak hadn't left. If only she hadn't been weak.

She wasn't weak now. No, she wasn't.

The door swung open and Lee emerged, black hair mussed and glasses missing.

“I brought you coffee,” he said with a warm, almost jovial smile, his voice rasping mildly as it was wont to do.

“Perfect, thank you,” she said, rubbing her temples. She willed the thumping pulse away, and away it went, making her cringe. Though she had never used her bloodbending on another human being, the ability was still there, ever-present, as reflexive as a twitch. She was aware of the times her ability allowed her to be aware of her own body, how the blood flowed from one part to another, how she could make her own pulse slow or quicken by sheer force of will.

Even without practice, she never really forgot how to do it.

“I was glad to see you yesterday,” Lee continued, “though you're much better company when you're sober, if you don't mind me saying.”

“While I don't agree, I'm grateful for the rescue,” Taraka said. “Getting drunk off my ass and having nowhere to go, well, it wouldn't have gone well for me if not for you.”

He sat on the bed beside her, idly straightening the pillows.

“Anything in particular that sparked yesterday's binge?” Lee asked.

“Well you haven't seen me in almost a year,” Taraka said. “How do you know I'm not just a secret drunk?”

“You're not the type, unless you're upset. As you said last night, I have a knack for finding you when you're drunk, and it's usually only when you're upset about something. So what was it this time?” His tone wasn't judgmental. It was, at worst, concerned, and at best, tender.

Taraka sighed. “A memory, nothing more.”

He pressed the coffee into her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. “Tell me,” he said gently.

Taraka grimaced, silent for a good minute before blowing her coffee cool and taking a sip.

“Do you know why I wear this?” she asked, gesturing to her neck.

“The press likes to recycle that particular story every so often,” Lee said, nodding. “Lost love, they said. A widow at sixteen. A tender memory that inspires you, thinking of your beloved in your darkest days, giving you the drive to push forward,” he said, every word light and theatrical and amused, the recounting of a familiar, well-spun lie. “Although excuse me for saying, it doesn't seem like the truth.”

“Not the _whole_ truth,” Taraka said, chuckling. “I did lose my first love when I was fourteen. We weren't married, but he _did_ give me this necklace. He asked me to run away with him. I... I refused. For my parents' sake, mostly, but also because I was afraid. I was so used to making sure everything was under my control that I was deathly afraid of losing what I'd built. A politician at fourteen.”

Lee's brows were furrowed, his gaze focused on Taraka's hands.

“I loved him more than anyone or anything in the world,” Taraka said. “If I'd been braver, I might have gone with him. I mean, I'd be dead, but then at least I wouldn't have had to feel the pain of losing him.”

“He... died?” Lee asked.

“Lost him in a snowstorm. We never found a body, but I doubt he survived,” Taraka said, shrugging. She pressed her fingertips against the carved detail of the necklace, made of turquoise and pearl, ivory and moonstone, cobbled together in one of the most beautiful necklaces ever carved for a marrying woman of the North. “For a very long time, I'd forgotten his face. Yesterday, a meeting with the Avatar reminded me. She wore her hair the same as he did, and she had the same skin, almost the same eyes. It brought me back to the day he left. Not a pleasant memory, to be sure.”

Lee tilted his head, still seemingly deep in thought. Taraka wondered what he was thinking about, but didn't dare ask. “So you remember how he looks like now?” he asked.

“Well, how he looked like as a teenager, yes,” Taraka laughed. “It's been decades since then. I can't imagine how he might look like now. He'd be handsome, for sure. He always was. Dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair. Strong at forty. Still beautiful enough to turn heads.”

“Like you,” Lee said, and Taraka laughed delightedly, if a bit bitterly.

“I'm not yet forty, but I suppose calling me beautiful is meant to be flattering, not a jab at my age.”

“I'm thirty-nine,” Lee said. “I know you're thirty-six. I hardly consider you old.”

Taraka sighed. “I think the word is... aged. People say that time passes too quickly but I feel like I've been in Republic City forever. It's my home now, but I still feel uneasy when I roam its streets and see suffering when there should be progress.”

“The two aren't mutually exclusive, as this city has proven to both of us,” Lee said, his own tone bitter enough to catch Taraka's attention.

“So you weren't born here,” Taraka observed. Lee shook his head.

“I came here at seventeen. At first, to run away from somebody, and then, to make a change. Twenty years later, I still haven't made any significant changes, except that I'm older and slower and more cynical than I was at seventeen.”

“We're kindred spirits in that regard,” Taraka said darkly.

“Except you've made a name for yourself,” Lee said. “You're the youngest Councilwoman to be elected into office. You're proactive, effective, and popular with the polls. I'm just a no-name nobody with a law degree and a crap apartment.”

“And yet we both know Republic City is still a rathole full of five times as many impoverished unfortunates as there are high class citizens. And the triads are still active, no matter how hard we try to keep them locked away. And now there's the Equalist problem to deal with...”

“You really think they're a problem?” Lee asked. He shifted, looking at her curiously. “The people finally standing up for themselves against benders in street gangs?”

“No,” Taraka said defensively. “I have nothing against the public uniting against injustice.” The words sounded empty on her tongue, like the memory of what Noatak might have said if he was there. Not her own words at all, though she did feel a very physical twinge in her chest whenever she saw the injustices the city still suffered. “It's just this Amon character and his campaign against all benders. Not just the triads—benders of every walk of life are free game for these supposed Equalists. If my brother was around, he'd laugh at the irony of the name.”

“How is it irony for people to not want some to have an unfair advantage over others?” Lee questioned, sounding almost insulted.

“Because we didn't ask to be born benders, Lee,” Taraka replied sharply. “I did not ask to be a bender, nor did I enjoy the years my father decided my bending was more important than our welfare. But bending is a part of me, something that, after thirty years of mastering it, I'm no longer capable of denying. Amon is deluded if he thinks benders will just roll over for his—his terrorism. Let me help these people, not some masked maniac with a personal grudge.”

“You've been a politician for over a decade, Taraka,” Lee said quietly. “How much have you really changed?”

Taraka bit her lip, refusing to answer. She could count the number of laws she'd help put forward on two hands, but she couldn't claim effectiveness for more than two or three of them. Writing up a law and enforcing it were two different things entirely, and some criminals were simply much too slippery to stay out of the game for long, while new ones kept popping up to replace the ones they were able to subdue.

It was hard. It was so hard, Taraka wasn't sure she could keep going with it. But she had to try.

It was all she could do.

“Hey,” Lee said softly, and when Taraka looked up, she saw his head hung low in shame. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up at you.”

“If that's you blowing up then I have to tell you, it's not the worst temper tantrum I've ever had to deal with,” Taraka joked.

“You've done a lot of good, Councilwoman,” Lee continued kindly. “I've been keeping up with your political career since you took down some of those major Agni Kai leaders before you started campaigning. Not bad for a minor official. I know you make all the smart choices politicians have to make to stay on top, and I trust your judgment more than the others, even the peaceable patriarch of the budding Air Nation himself. Councilman Tenzin may be wise, but he's no politician. You play the press like a fiddle and maximize your resources in a way he was never able to, even with his noble bloodline.”

“Enough, enough. Any more and my head will explode from all the praise,” Taraka interrupted. She was feeling hot under the collar, as bashful as a teenager. She didn't know what she'd done to earn the man's approval, but she treasured the vote of confidence from somebody she considered a real friend.

It was a gamble, but she was usually good at reading a situation. She'd had practice living with Yakone for fifteen years. So if she was going to take this risk, it was now or never.

“If I told you it was for the good of Republic City, would you marry me?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to reply right before her words seemed to register, which left him amusingly open-mouthed in shock.

“I—what?”

“You said yourself, I play the press like a fiddle. You trust my judgment,” she said, repeating what he'd just told her. “Well, right now I'm feeding them the Avatar's active part in my task force, but I don't expect everything to go exactly according to plan. The Avatar is a wildcard, I don't know how long I can keep her on my side, with Tenzin's hand clamped on her shoulder. She accepted my offer, but who knows how long that'll last? And Amon... Amon is becoming bolder, perhaps as a result of Korra's arrival. The Avatar _is_ the ultimate bender after all.”

“And what in the world does that have to do with marriage?” Lee asked, bewildered.

“Succeed or fail, the press will eventually turn on me,” Taraka sighed. “They might latch onto my successes, or they could leech off my failures. And with an enemy as powerful and influential and downright terrifying as Amon, I foresee failures. I need something to sway the public to my side again. Especially the non-bender population.”

“So you'll reveal your intent to wed a perfectly ordinary non-bender without status, to show you're a friend to non-benders and are without judgment, open to consideration and aware of their hardships,” Lee said, crossing his arms. “A brilliant strategy to be sure.”

“It's a plan, certainly.”

“You'd have me flaunt myself to the public as a political tool? And here I thought our friendship actually meant something,” Lee said stonily.

Taraka's face fell. “Of course it means something,” she said. “You're the first man I've even considered caring about since I arrived at Republic City. Since... losing him.”

“The entire city is well aware of your attractiveness, Councilwoman,” Lee said flatly. “And the fact that you're not short of bedmates, when the mood strikes you.”

“Oh,” Taraka sneered. “That. I may play the press but I don't control them. Sometimes the lies they tell aren't kind, but all the same, I have to work with the ones that sell papers. That one was a particularly dirty lie the opposition enjoyed when I was still a candidate.”

“You confirmed it to the presses,” Lee reminded her. “You said you weren't ashamed of making choices that were best for you, and by that awareness would not deny the city what was best for it.”

Taraka shrugged. “It's better to use a lie to your advantage than to deny it. It would have been an overblown scandal people would talk about for decades. My confirmation simply put the issue to rest, and if the only consequence was letting people think I was a nubile, attractive young woman who knew just what she wanted and had no qualms being honest with the public, then I consider it a victory.”

Lee said nothing in return, and realization struck Taraka like lightning at his avoidance of her gaze.

“Were you actually jealous?” Taraka asked. “That I would take up with other men while I told the public I was with you?”

“I think any man would—”

“Are you attracted to me?”

“I'm... I'm not...”

Taraka's smile only grew as Lee stuttered, turning away and taking the cup from where she'd laid it down on the side table.

“You still haven't said no,” Taraka said. “Which means you're considering it.”

The look he threw her could only be described as doleful, and he quite decisively said “No. I'm not... You're...” He gestured vaguely, trying to find the words.

“You're... you're very... You're beautiful.”

Taraka blinked. Well, she wasn't expecting that.

“You're wonderful.”

“Are you going to go into a tirade about my endless virtues again?” Taraka said dryly. “Because I don't mind, I just feel like the time spent talking could be spent on other, more productive things.”

“I can't marry you, Taraka,” Lee said finally. “I want to,” he added, making Taraka perk up considerably, “but I can't.”

“It's okay,” Taraka said, saving him from trying (and failing miserably) to explain himself any further. “It was a long shot anyway. A silly idea. I shouldn't expect so much from you, especially after not talking for almost a year. I did try to contact you a few times, but you're a hard man to get a hold of.”

“I've been busy with... recent developments.”

“As have I,” Taraka said. “But a phone call would have been nice, at least.” She stretched out languidly, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “Your voice is almost as lovely as your face.”

“Taraka...”

“Put that down and come here, will you?”

He sat back down on the side of the bed and Taraka sat up. She put her hands on his shoulders, smoothing down the wrinkled material of his sleeping clothes, before kissing him soundly on the lips.

After a while, he kissed back.

 

* * *

 

 

_Two years ago..._

 

“The problem with the triads is that they've dug their roots so deep into the system that it's impossible to take them all down without ripping up most of what keeps the districts thriving,” Lee said.

Taraka, at thirty-four, was well aware of the influence the triads seemed to have on much of Republic City's deeper workings. There were the more obvious extortion rackets that had many of the shopkeepers of their territories paying for 'protection', but then there were the underground trades, the fights (both legal and illegal), and the terrorized citizens who had long since learned that talking only led to trouble. There were even young recruits who were being used both as canon fodder and as ransom, an indirect threat for parents and families everywhere not to report gang activity or have a loved one go to jail in place of the real masterminds.

It was hardship mired in complexity, and more than once Taraka tasted bitter victories whenever arrests were made, and the gang members they apprehended were no older than she was when she first came to the city.

“Republic City's criminal underground has been around for longer than you or I have been alive, Taraka,” Lee had advised her. “It'll take more than a few well-meaning leaders to take them down, at least within the law.”

“That almost certainly doesn't make me feel any better, Lee,” Taraka said frankly. They were eating at a somewhat popular noodle place that day, Taraka dressed down and free to move around without being hounded by the press.

“I cannot fathom the patience you have for bureaucracy,” Lee muttered. “One day it'll just be too much and I'll be reading headlines of Councilwoman Taraka doling out vigilante justice, and I will celebrate that day. Perhaps even join you.”

“Were it only so easy,” Taraka said. “You underestimate my restraint. I'd rather play by Republic City's rules than break them for my own benefit. I've seen what happens to people who do that—I see it in the triads everyday.”

“But what if someone was able to take them down?” Lee speculated wildly. “What if somebody decided to do what's best for this city and take the triads down?”

“Then I'll be handing in my resignation and going home. I've been playing this game long enough to know that I'd kill the next person who tries to change the rules,” Taraka said.

“Maybe a game changer is just what we need,” Lee said.

“Maybe. But I still won't like it.”

 “No, I don't think you would,” Lee said mysteriously. 

 


	4. Friends and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra joins her task force, faces Amon, and Taraka remembers her old mentor, and her first show of strength in the city's public eye.

 

Two days after Taraka's drunken escapade and the night she spent at Lee's, there was a party thrown in the Avatar's honor.

Taraka had made sure to invite as many important figures as she could (important being a term she used lightly to describe the pompous and the well-known, the rich and powerful, the idiotic and the dangerously intelligent high class citizens of the Republic).

She dressed in her finest clothes and used precious stones to decorate her three tails before welcoming her guests. The cameras began to flash as she shook hands with all the right people, and her smile was even wider when she greeted Korra as she entered with Tenzin and his family.

“Avatar Korra, I am so glad you accepted my invitation,” Taraka said loudly, catching the attention of the attending press. 

“Well, I couldn't very well say no,” Korra said sheepishly. Taraka wrapped a genial arm around her shoulders. 

“No, of course not! Not when the entire city is waiting to thank you for your service, protecting them against the Equalist threat,” Taraka continued, leading her up to the podium. 

“But I haven't done anything yet,” Korra pointed out. 

“You will,” Taraka said before clearing her throat. 

“People of Republic City! Your Avatar has answered the call to action. With the two of us working side-by-side against the Equalist threat, there is no doubt that we'll be able to keep our dear city safe from harm.” 

“Time for questions,” she murmured to Korra, nudging her forward to the microphone. 

The press began to bombard her with questions about her plans to quell the extremist Equalists, and Taraka was pleased when Korra answered (at a loss for what else to say) that she'd be following the Councilwoman's lead.

It was the kind of support she needed, from the Avatar, no less. The city practically belonged to her, or it would, and she was a good ally to have.

She only hoped that this alliance would be enough to get them through the coming days.

When Korra smiled nervously at her as the crowd cheered, Taraka smiled back warmly, surprised that she didn't have to fake it as much this time.

“You didn't have to do all this, you know. She already chose to accept your offer, however underhandedly you presented it.” 

Taraka frowned, but only briefly, turning to the only other person in the hallway. She was surprised that Tenzin had somehow broken away from his family—she noticed he'd had his hands full with his children for most of the night.

“It wasn't underhanded,” Taraka said. “Believe it or not, I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I saw Korra, and my reaction was genuine.” 

“But you still got what you wanted anyway,” Tenzin said. 

“I always do,” Taraka responded flippantly. “Tenzin, don't worry and enjoy the party. I know you don't like frivolity, but enjoy this one night, for your family's sake.” 

“Don't talk about my family, Taraka,” Tenzin said sharply. “Korra is part of my family, and you're putting her at risk. If anything happens to her, I promise you, no amount of my father's teachings will keep me from hunting you down.” 

Taraka smiled, a cold, frightening smile. “It's not good to threaten a fellow councilwoman, Tenzin. Especially not now, when the eyes and the ears of the city are just a door away.”

“It's not a threat, Taraka, it's a promise,” Tenzin said seriously. He seemed to deflate as he said it, and with a sigh, he added, “Make sure she's safe. She may seem strong but she's still young, and reckless.”

“She one of the most skilled benders I've ever seen,” Taraka said. “She'll do fine. Besides, she'll have me there with her.” 

Tenzin snorted, but decided not to comment.

“This is a dangerous game you're playing with Amon, Taraka. Don't be reckless.” 

“I appreciate your concern, Tenzin, but I'm not stupid enough to put myself in front of a man who could take my bending away forever.” 

Tenzin frowned. Taraka sighed, feeling charitable enough to say, “I'll be careful.”

 

And she was.

 

Until Korra decided to publicly challenge Amon to a duel.

 

Before Korra's duel debacle, the raids were going spectacularly. Taraka was right with her assessment of Korra's bending abilities—she was strong, fast, and ingenious as a waterbender, and she was a barrage of tireless power as a fire and earthbender. They were able to take out half a dozen Equalist training camps by the end of the week.

Korra's challenge was a public spectacle, one that, while to the press, was a juicy story, was a problem that fell to Taraka to fix. Unfortunately, Korra was as stubborn as the rock she bent. Taraka was already feeling sympathy for Tenzin at the end of it, when they were gathering Beifong's troops together to guard the bay.

When Tenzin arrived, gliding in as Korra was ready to head out, Taraka's headache only grew.

“This is all your fault!” he accused, and Taraka responded, “I tried to talk her out of it too, but she's made up her mind. And do you really think it would have done anybody any good for the public to think their Avatar is a liar?” 

“Your politicking is going to get you in trouble one day, Taraka, you mark my words.” 

Taraka chose not to respond, taking a seat and watching Korra climb up to a place in the monument they could see from their vantage point.

For hours, they sat, anxious and waiting for the man who most benders feared as they would a monster. For hours, he did not appear.

In the quiet of waiting, Taraka found herself listening. Eyes closed in concentration, she listened to the water around her, lapping up against the boat. She listened to a drumbeat in the distance, soft and fluttering. She wondered if there was a show in the city somewhere.

Then the drumbeats got faster, until Taraka was aware that there was more than one drum playing.

But when she opened her eyes, there was nothing.

“She's gone!” One of the guards shouted suddenly, and Taraka gasped, realizing what she'd heard. 

They weren't drums. They were heartbeats, the sound of blood rushing through veins, that she heard. Korra's heartbeat, and then...

“Go! Go now!” she shouted. 

“Korra!” she heard Tenzin yell, and he took flight, getting far ahead of them as they sped over the water to get to the monument. As soon as the boat neared, she jumped out, not waiting for it to dock, and she rode the water and used it to lift her up onto the concrete, followed closely by the other benders on the force. 

When she arrived at the scene, panting from her run, Taraka saw Korra crying in Tenzin's arms. There were signs of a struggle, but it was clear her attackers were already gone.

“Find them! Hurry up and warn the mainland! Find their boats!” Taraka barked, sending the other officers away. She then stepped closer, lifting her hand cautiously. 

“Is she...” Taraka began. 

Tenzin looked up, glaring at her before looking older and more tired than Taraka had ever seen him look. “She's... she's fine. Just shaken.”

“And her bending?” 

“Still intact. Amon chose to delay taking it so that he could avoid martyring her,” Tenzin explained. 

“Makes sense,” Taraka said, not knowing what else to say. 

“She will no longer be part of your task force,” Tenzin said. 

Taraka nodded. “Yes,” she said shortly.

“You will let her be,” Tenzin added. 

“Of course,” Taraka said. 

“I mean it Taraka.”

“So do I, Tenzin.” She turned away. “Take her home. I've alerted the others. They're already searching for the boat.” 

“They won't find it,” Korra said suddenly. 

Taraka looked back, guiltily meeting Korra's red-eyed gaze.

“It doesn't hurt to look,” she said. She walked over, ignoring Tenzin's look in favor of kneeling down, cupping the side of Korra's face with one hand. It was the gesture of a sister, its tenderness not lost on Korra, whose awe was visible beyond Tenzin's suspicion. 

Taraka left without saying a word.

 

* * *

_Fifteen years ago..._

Taraka's first encounter with the triads had left her feeling invincible. It was one of the first incidents that got her acquainted with Republic City's press, and had kept her on their radar ever since.

At twenty-one, Taraka was working as an assistant to an official in a mid-level district who went by the name of Bagsik, doing menial tasks like sending messages, keeping appointments, serving tea. She wasn't afraid of a little humility, in the long run, and the man she worked for was unlike the other politicians she'd come into contact with. He was self-assured, but not arrogant. He was harsh, but he was a good man, something Taraka appreciated.

Bagsik, he said, translated into 'fierce' in his native tongue, and Taraka could see that he was aptly named.

He was not by any means a great politician—he could not sway the people or the presses to his whims the way she'd seen others do. He was simply a good one, one that the city needed, but one that would never be popular enough to rise from a respectable position to a high one.

Still, he was a man of honor, and would not bend to bribe nor blackmail. A non-bender, Taraka thought, amused, that would not bend. It seemed fitting.

Unfortunately, his inability to bend (in both respects) was a clear target for the newly initiated members of the Agni Kai triad, whose territory was closest to Bagsik's district, and looking to expand.

If Taraka had not been there that night, who knows what would have happened to this man, who she owed so much to? It didn't bear thinking.

That night, her boss was working late, assessing damages and the fees he would have to use from the tax reserves to repair them—reserves running thin since the Agni Kais had begun to terrorize their area.

Funding security was just as difficult, and Bagsik would toss ideas around out loud, sometimes expecting her to give her suggestions and sometimes using her as a sounding board for his own.

“We could request officers from the Chief. A few men and women from their metalbending force, to patrol and keep the peace,” he said thoughtfully. 

“The forces are spread too thin. Ever since Chief Beifong stepped down, the metalbending force hasn't been as reliable,” Taraka said. “Retired. Who'd have thought someone like Toph Beifong would ever retire?” 

“Everyone gets old and tired at some point,” Bagsik sighed. “We could use more benders like Toph Beifong.” 

“Her daughter, Lin, is on the force. A high ranking officer, possibly the next chief,” Taraka said. 

“Unfortunately, not yet chief, and we still need to woo this one,” Bagsik said tiredly. 

The only sounds for the next few minutes were that of his pen scratching paper, the distant, muffled sounds of the city's night life at its peak, and the rush of water from the tiny, decorative stone fountain Taraka had given her boss on the first anniversary of her working under him. He didn't like frivolity, but the fountain had a practical use as well. She did, after all, get it for him about the same time the triads began to move into their district.

That night, the danger they suspected was there became all too real.

The first Taraka heard was the sound of the locked front doors splintering open.

“Sir, get down!” she urged, just as the office doors were blasted off their hinges by a ball of fire. 

“Good evenin' Mister Bagsik. Hope we're not interrupting any... important business.” 

The man who spoke up was the Agni Kai triad's second, the slimiest firebender Taraka had ever met, a man who went by the name of Oilslick. He was almost certainly skilled enough to be a threat, always carrying around a supply of oil which he liked to spray on properties and people, a warning if there ever was one not to cross the largely fire nation Agni Kais.

Tonight, Oilslick had an earthbender with him, a short but mean-looking thug, and two other firebenders who looked like nothing more than lackeys. She guessed there were others—probably waiting downstairs in case they needed a quick getaway, though she had yet to sound the alarm and warn the authorities.

They were trapped in that room with dangerous criminals, but Taraka wasn't afraid. Not for herself, anyway, though she wasn't the target of tonight's risky operation. No, they wanted her boss.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” Oilslick drawled, practically sliding over to where Taraka stood, hands tense at her sides. “We got business with your boss here, but if you give me a smile, I might just let you leave before things get too ugly.” 

What Taraka gave him was not so much a smile as it was a snarl. “Too late for that. You're already here, after all.”

She was yanked by the lapels and held up off the ground. He was strong for somebody so lanky, but she supposed he wouldn't have risen up in the ranks if he weren't.

“I like girls with spirit,” Oilslick said, and his thugs laughed. 

“What a coincidence!” Taraka said, hands raised. “I like idiots who underestimate me as a threat.” 

A flick of her wrist and the water from the fountain snapped his arm so hard he dropped her, the water whip reaching from all the way on the other side of the room.

With a smooth, round gesture, Taraka summoned all the water running through the fountain to her, spinning round her like a fanbelt in a Satomobile, gaining speed as it went. It wasn't much, but it was a weapon, all the same.

“Get her!” Oilslick shouted, and the two firebenders attacked simultaneously. Though their moves weren't coordinated, they were still enough of a threat that Taraka kept her guard up, shifting the spinning belt of water into a shield, losing some of it as the fire evaporated it into steam. She straightened her fingers and punched icicles from either side, striking both firebenders in the face—a short victory, when the earthbender bent the floor behind her, causing her to stumble. 

“I'll teach you to mess with the Agni Kais!” Oilslick shouted, and in that moment, she knew she had them. 

He sprayed oil on her, unthinking, and released a flame to light it just as she bent it back in his direction.

It was closer to him than it was to her, and she heard him scream as the burning oil struck him.

It didn't burn for long, but it was enough to injure him grievously.

His lackeys dragged him out the door and Taraka gave chase. They were getting into two separate carts, and Taraka only had a moment's calculation as she sent two icicles flying in two directions, one hitting its target, puncturing a wheel and sending the vehicle off-course, while the other icicle missed by a fraction, making the cart teeter, but right itself once more.

She heard sirens in the distance, and soon, the city's metalbending officers arrived at the scene.

Her boss was safe, if shaken. He thanked her grimly.

“That was a dangerous thing you did, injuring a triad leader like that. They'll be back for blood,” he said.

“I'll get you a bigger fountain,” Taraka said lightly, buzzing with the adrenaline high.

He wasn't wrong, her boss. Sometime later, the Agni Kais returned, with more men and a grudge.

Taraka came out of that particular fight famous, and was soon on the road to success in the public eye.

Seven years later, Bagsik was killed by Agni Kais. It happened in the middle of the street. He was retired.

He was her friend. Taraka loved that man like he was family. She owed him so much, and she wasn't there to protect him.

A week after the fact, the body of one Oilslick, real name Saitano, was found floating near the docks. His death happened under mysterious circumstances, and Taraka knew the truth was stifled by the press.

After all, chaos would ensue if the city knew there was a bloodbender on the loose. And months later, when there were no more strange murders reported, the authorities breathed a collective sigh of relief that, whoever this bloodbender was, their murder was a one off. An Agni Kai firebender who was responsible for the permanent disfigurements or deaths of a large part of the community, one that was too afraid to speak up, being killed by a waterbender? It was, to many, justice.

Taraka kept the papers that reported the murder of her mentor, and the murder of the Agni Kai thug, as a reminder. Once you had power, you had enemies.

And if you didn't have enough of that power, these enemies won't hesitate to destroy you.

 


	5. Love and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Korra, and Taraka's soft side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably write a full sex scene as a separate fic, but meanwhile, have this.

She found herself in the Dragon's Flat borough once more, standing in front of Lee's apartment door. She felt pathetic, calling without phoning ahead, and when her knocks went unanswered, even more so.

It was the middle of the night, after all. Why she expected he'd be up was beyond her. Maybe she just needed sleep. She wasn't thinking clearly. This was stupid. She bumped her forehead against the wood, sighing deeply.

“Taraka?” 

She jumped, but just barely, surprised that she didn't hear his footsteps. Lee stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in a coat for the evening chill, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“You're late,” Taraka joked lamely. 

“You're... you're here. Why are you here?” 

“Why are you late?” Taraka returned. 

“I couldn't sleep... out on the town... I thought you were busy with that task force of yours. I didn't expect to see you,” Lee said, finding the keys in his pocket. 

He let them both in, toeing off his shoes and hanging his coat.

She kissed him at the doorway. He pushed her away, halfheartedly, his face rife with conflict. “Don't think about it,” she advised, locking the door with one free hand as the other drifted up, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into another kiss. This time, he didn't hesitate—his arms wrapped around her back and he returned the kiss passionately.

She yelped softly when his hands trailed low and lifted he lifted her up by the thighs, carrying her to the bedroom, navigating the hallway deftly even as they were busily devouring each other's mouths, unmindful of anything but the inside of that apartment, and the warmth of each other's bodies radiating through their clothing.

The last time they'd seen each other, they'd laid on the bed, kissing for nearly an hour. It didn't go beyond that, and every time Taraka tried to initiate something, Lee simply held her hands to stop her, and out of respect, she stopped trying. It was new to them, after all. They had time.

After this night's duel debacle, though, Taraka didn't feel as considerate, and immediately went for the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them off in her haste. She pulled away for a moment, apologizing breathlessly.

“Sorry, I—mmph!” 

Lee didn't seem all that concerned with propriety either, this time around. Following Taraka's lead, he unclasped the front of her shirt halfway down before yanking the whole thing to her waist, biting and sucking at her collarbone.

“I—Are you—”

“Yes,” Taraka interrupted, meeting his eyes. “The answer is yes.”

 

 

* * *

 

The morning came too soon, sunlight drifting in from the window and the distant clanging bells of public transportation disturbing Taraka's slumber.

She turned over and found Lee already awake, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, bent over, head in his hands. Taraka reached over, but he flinched when she touched her, and she wondered how much he regretted what they did with an ache blooming in her chest.

“Bad night?” she said lightly, the joke falling flat. 

“It was... trying,” Lee answered before long. “I was hoping I'd see you, when I went out. When I actually did see you, I didn't think. I just... felt. I felt overjoyed that you'd come to me when I spent the whole night thinking about you.” 

Taraka got on her knees on the bed and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her chest from behind.

“Do you regret what we did?” she asked quietly. 

“Yes,” he answered. “But not for the reasons you might think,” he added, kissing her hand. 

“Well, I don't,” Taraka said, the heaviness in her heart falling away. “Last night was lovely. And I wouldn't mind doing it again.” She nuzzled the side of his neck, feeling a pang of hurt as he stood, pulling away from her grip. 

“Do you have... is there something you can take?” Lee asked, and it took Taraka a moment to realize what it was he was asking.

“I have tea,” she said. It was a special blend, one to encourage bleeding and prevent childbirth. When she was young, on her first legs in the city, she was appalled by the apothecaries who carried such substances. But it didn't take long for her to realize their usefulness, and she took to keeping a stock in her home, despite her admittedly dry love life. 

“Good. I—Taraka,” he began, “It's a difficult time right now.” 

“You're telling me,” Taraka sighed. 

It shut her up when he knelt in front of her, locking our gazes with the intensity of his stare, something strange about the green of his eyes—something deeper, brewing underneath.

“I love you,” he said slowly, deliberately. 

Taraka had never known words to affect her so much, but the moment he said it, she had to take a breath, closing her eyes as tears began to escape.

When she opened them, Lee looked worried, even guilty.

“I'm sorry,” Taraka laughed shakily. “I just... I didn't realize how much I wanted... how much I needed to hear that.” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling with a tilt of the head. “I love you too,” she said softly, just as seriously. “But I feel like there's a 'but' that you're waiting to drop on me before the end of it.”

“As I said, it's a difficult time,” Lee said. “And very soon, I might not get to see you anymore. I don't want this relationship to be built on the pain of losing each other so early.” 

“Losing each other?” Taraka said, eyes widening. “What do you mean? It's not like you're gonna die anytime soon, right?” 

She didn't mean for it to come out so seriously, but was still relieved when Lee shook his head.

“Things have just been really tense here in the borough and I might have to move soon. And it'll be a rough move, so I might be out of contact for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Taraka asked, a deep frown heavy on her face, anger bubbling beneath the surface. 

“I don't know,” Lee said. “But it's not for another month. We have time,” he added, desperation tinging his words, soothing the anger Taraka had yet to release. “Don't we?” 

Taraka kissed his shoulder softly. “I'm hosting a gala in four days' time, to honor the protectors of the city—my task force deputies will be there, as will Beifong's metalbending police, and some big names in big businesses. A bid, more than anything, to increase manpower and financial aid. With the Equalists growing in number and more chi-blocking camps popping up, we're gonna need the full support—you know what, it doesn't matter,” Taraka said, shaking her head. “The point is,” she continued, “I want you be there with me.”

“I understand the bid for support,” Lee said, “but wouldn't my presence be extraneous? Or are you still going to show me off to exemplify your support for the non-bending community?” 

“No,” Taraka said. “You won't have to do or say anything you don't want to, and I won't use you for something so petty. Not anymore.” 

She melted into his embrace. “I just want you to be there. I want you to be a part of my life the way you've made me a part of yours. You don't  _have_ to, of course, but I'd love it if you could.”

“I'll... I'll call you a day ahead, at the latest,” Lee said, a tenuous answer, but an answer nonetheless, and Taraka kissed him again and again with a sweet smile of reassurance, hoping beyond hope that he'd say yes. 

 

* * *

 

Taraka visited Korra at the Air Temple two days after the encounter.

She was shaken that night, but now she seemed fine—surprised, even, when she saw Taraka climbing the steps to see her.

“Councilwoman,” she greeted. “Um... what're you doing here?” 

“I came to see how you were doing,” Taraka answered. 

“I'm—I'm fine,” Korra said nervously, making a show of bending in an attempt to prove it. “My bending's all together, and I've been training with Tenzin, and—”

“Tenzin told you not to trust me, didn't he?” Taraka interrupted, and Korra slumped. 

“I don't think he likes you very much,” Korra sighed, sitting on the front steps. Taraka shrugged, taking a seat beside her. 

“Well, Tenzin's never really liked me,” Taraka said airily. “He was always so very democratic, so full of Air Nation wisdom. I was more of a take-action kind of woman. We've been clashing on a lot of issues since before I was even on the Council.” 

Korra chuckled. “I don't doubt that. How long have you known Tenzin for?”

“For about as long as you've been alive, Korra, give or take a couple of years,” Taraka said. “I mean, if you're asking how long we've been on arguing terms, I'd say since about two years before I took a seat on the council, but I met him when I was still an assistant, serving under an official in the boroughs near the docks. The Agni Kais once tired expanding their territories there, but thanks to my boss Bagsik, they got some authorities to tighten security there and the triads were pushed back.”

“Oh? What happened to him?” Korra asked with genuine interest. 

“He was killed by Agni Kais,” Taraka answered bluntly. “It wouldn't have happened if the council had taken his proposals more seriously much sooner, but after his murder, they were inclined to deal with the triads more strictly.” 

“Excuse me for saying so but when I got into the city the triads were still pretty much a terror,” Korra said. “How strict is strict?” 

“It was worse before,” Taraka said, giving her a dry half smile. 

“I can't imagine,” Korra said softly. 

“So you can understand why Tenzin and I butt heads. Here on this island, he's safe. He's never had to worry about the triads killing him on his way home or targeting his family. He doesn't know what it's like to fear for the people you care about just living in the city,” Taraka said solemnly. “But I do. That's why I came to you, and not to him.” 

“I noticed,” Korra began cautiously. “You were the first authority figure in the city who thought I was capable of anything beyond wrecking stuff and failing training.” 

“That's because I saw a little of myself in you,” Taraka remarked. “And, granted, I have had my share of failures and wrecking things,” she chuckled. “In fact, my father—”

She stopped, surprised at what she was about to reveal. How odd that Korra should so easily bring her past out of her.

“What about your father?” Korra asked. 

“He was, uh. He was a strict man. Always expecting us to do above and beyond, always telling us to strive to be better than the best, that mediocrity had no place in his household,” Taraka said. “I had my share of failures in his eyes. My brother was a bending prodigy, and I was a bit slower on the uptake. Eventually I found my niche in politics and worked hard to get where I am today. I learned from my failures, and if they hadn't happened, I don't think I'd be as strong as I am now.” 

She turned to Korra, smiling encouragingly. “Your failures don't make  _you_ a failure, Korra. They may belong to you, but they don't define you. I don't doubt that in time, you will be the greatest Avatar the world will ever know.”

“Thanks, Councilwoman,” Korra said earnestly. “I needed that.” 

“You can just call me Taraka.” 

“Taraka,” Korra repeated happily. “You can just call me Korra, then. Tenzin's got you pegged all wrong. You're a pretty amazing person.” 

“Likewise, Avatar. Korra,” Taraka amended. “If you're not adverse to it, perhaps I might consider you a friend?” 

“Friends? Me?” Korra said incredulously, before quickly adding, “I mean, of course! Of course, I'd love to have you as a friend.” 

“That's good,” Taraka said, standing. “We did make a good team in the task force, after all,” Taraka reminded her. Korra frowned. 

“I'm grateful for everything, but I won't be rejoining your task force anytime soon,” she said. 

“I know,” Taraka replied. “And I don't expect you to. After what happened with Amon, nobody expects you to.” 

Korra's brows knit together in thought. “I still want to help, though.”

“If it comes to that, I'll go straight to you,” Taraka promised, taking her leave. “Meanwhile, try to enjoy your weeks of peace and quiet.”

“If by peace and quiet, you mean intense training at the pro-bending arena, then sure. I'll enjoy that,” Korra laughed. 

“I'll make sure to listen out for you,” Taraka said, waving goodbye. 

She saw Tenzin emerging from within the temple, catching a glimpse of her as she walked down the steps. Hopefully this amiable conversation she just had would prevent him from driving a wedge between them. A friendship with the Avatar, after all, was an asset she could benefit from in the future.

 


	6. Lee the just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Noatak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I might be doing this fic all from Taraka's perspective but then I figured, what's obvious is obvious anyway, and Noatak and Lee have their own stories to tell as well. 
> 
> Hope you're still enjoying this one!

The Dragon Flats borough was the largest settlement of non-benders in the city, and a favored target by triad thugs. The citizens were often too afraid, too weak to defend themselves, and the bending authorities would too often be too late in their attempts to assist the victims.

Lately, though, it became perfectly clear to the triads that Dragon Flats was no longer good for benders. Since the revolution began its slow ascent, more and more citizens were revealed to be chi-blockers, trained to fight against anyone who might pose a threat to them, bending or no.

It was a good change, but too slow going.

“Lee! It's good to see you, finally. Been too busy to come see how things are going, huh?” 

“I'd be lying if I said it's good to see you too, San Tzu,” Lee said lightly. “How are things going?”

“We just got a new batch last week. Fast learners! Good thing, too. At the rate those task force jockeys are going, we're trying to ease up on training until we're sure our people are safe.” 

“Amon is formulating a plan as we speak,” Lee said. “Lately we've had some leads plant false information, but between lies, the truth seems to have a habit of coming out.”

“You're telling me,” San Tzu sighed. “Manoru was arrested last week distracting task force benders while the students escaped. How much longer do we have to keep doing this before something changes?” 

Lee bit his lip. “A month, San Tzu,” he said decidedly. “A month, and it's all going to change.”

“I hope you're right. So tell me, does part of this change include your late night rendezvous with a certain bender lady from the upper class districts?” San Tzu said, his tone more playful than accusatory, though as suspicious as it ought to be. 

Lee turned away, not allowing the man to see the expression on his face.

“If I told you it was?” Lee said carefully. 

San Tzu shook his head, laughing. “Cold, Lee. I didn't figure you to be that cold.”

“We all fight for the same cause, San Tzu. This is bigger than any of us.”

“Just be careful, okay?” San Tzu said kindly. “Nobody doubts your loyalty, but you can't really stop people from talking. New benders and outsiders in the Dragon Flats are never good news, so a lot of people have got both eyes open when it comes to that.”

“Fine,” Lee said shortly. “Thank you,” he added.

“Come on, then. They're waiting for you.” 

Lee nodded as he was led into the shopkeeper's basement, the painted mask of Amon staring down at him from the poster, large enough to block the windows looking in from the street.

“Hello, everyone! May I introduce one of our chi-blocking masters, one of the first to teach the art to further the Equalist movement. A man with a keen sense of justice, one who you now may call sifu Lee.”

 

* * *

 

The day he'd given up the name Noatak was a great relief for him.

Noatak, after all, was a disgrace, a failure best left to the past.

Noatak had been a bloodbender of rare skill, a boy who used his powers to manipulate others, even loved ones. Noatak had enjoyed that power, too much, and when he stopped being Noatak, he had washed his hands of that love of suffering, killing it with kindness and empathy and the hope of a new beginning.

Noatak had abandoned his family. He loved his mother, but she was weak, and he knew she would not be harmed. He once loved his father, but it was clear that there was no helping the monster consumed by hatred and revenge. The family Noatak had left behind was his sister, his most trusted friend, the most important person in the world to him. And Noatak had abandoned her, called her weak as he made his way through a blizzard, never to see her again.

Noatak... Noatak had loved her.

His greatest disgrace was that he'd loved her, more than any brother ever should love a sister.

He didn't know how long ago it started, but by the time he was fourteen, he became aware of how ingrained it was in his spirit, so much so that he could not abandon it for as long as he remained Noatak.

Ever since they were children, Noatak looked at Taraka and saw something that was his, and his alone. She was his, and they would never be parted, and only when Noatak was seventeen and Taraka was fourteen (and, by their village's custom, of marrying age) , did Noatak realize what that meant.

He carved her a necklace not out of kindness. He did it for the same reason he quite subtly and wordlessly threatened the young men who came to their home looking to speak to her, the same reason he mocked the girls who tried to get his attention. He did it for the same reason he endured his father and shielded her from his wrath.

He was in love with his sister, and that was his greatest disgrace. He saw her growing into something strong, but he could see the barest slivers of darkness in her, and he knew he had corrupted her.

Noatak had abandoned her, but he rationalized, later on, that it was better for her to be away from him. He was ruin, and would not be around for much longer.

Soon enough, Noatak was gone. Abandoned. Dead in the storm, he decided as he cut his hair and changed his clothes for the trip.

He was going to Republic City. Start a new life. And he wouldn't be Noatak when he did it.

“Heyyy, how about Lee? Lee's a nice name, common, unassuming, something to build up from! I think you could look like a Lee, if you wanted to,” said the trader who he met on the ship, someone oddly familiar, but helpful and intuitive, knowing with one glance that he was looking for a new life and was leaving an old one behind. 

“Listen, Lee, can I call you Lee? Yeah, listen, Lee, if you need any help, don't forget to call your good friend Varrick, huh? Republic City is the city of opportunities! And I don't want to see you miss yours.” 

Fifteen years later, Lee was glad to know Varrick was still helpful, as the first shipments of Future Industries' new inventions began coming in.

“One month,” he murmured to himself as he watched the new chi-blockers finish their forms. “And everything will change.” 

One thing he knew that would never change, though:

Noatak or Lee or even the great Amon, there was no hiding the fact that even after all these years, his heart still burned for Taraka (his sister, the Councilwoman, the  _enemy_ ). 

It was the one thing, he knew, that he would have to live with forever, or die of, if it ever came to that.

 

* * *

 

 

_Twenty years ago..._

 

“Here, see? You form a sphere around you like this, and just keep feeding it water as it spins. It'll protect you from fireblasts.”

“How do you even know we'll be dealing with fireblasts?” Taraka challenged, creating a spinning ball of water in preparation, melting it from the snow beneath her feet.

“You never know! It's always good to be prepared for any threat,” Noatak advised.

Taraka nodded, taking the water and forming it into a protective sphere, continuing the motion as her brother said and feeding it water as it spun. Within the sphere, she could see the ice-men they'd sculpted for practice, and with the points of her fingers she struck at the ever-growing sphere, shooting icicles at the targets and cutting parts clean off.

She let the water drop in a perfect circle around her. “Noa, did you see that?” she said, laughing delightedly.

“That was inspired,” Noatak said, nodding approvingly. “Look you decapitated that one. Got any plans to take the heads off those boys who keep bothering you?”

“It's just ice,” Taraka said. “It's not like people are made of it. The icicles won't do _that_ much damage.”

“You're a powerful bender, Taraka,” Noatak said. “You can make the ice do as much damage as you need it to.”

To demonstrate, he picked up a stone from one of the jutting masses of earth beneath the snow and threw it in the air. He then bent an icicle at it, his movements sharp and eyes narrowed in concentration.

Taraka's eyes widened as the stone was sliced right down the middle, the pieces falling in two different directions. She picked one up and examined it, feeling the smooth cut.

“This is amazing, Noatak,” she said in a small voice.

“The two of us?” Noatak said, wrapping an arm around her. “We're the strongest waterbenders in the world. Together, we're invincible.”

Taraka smiled, a toothy grin full of promise. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Just the two of us, together.”

And she bent an icicle at the jutting stone, leaving a deep cut in the rock face.

 


	7. The lover and the sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Korra, again. Taraka evaluates her relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Ikki, since I loved her dialogue with Tarrlok in the original. I wanted to get it in somehow.

“ I can see the gears turning in your head,”Taraka teased.

“Well that's usually what happens when I do work,” Lee said. “Which is what you're supposed to be doing right now, if I have your schedules right.” 

“I have an hour before my squeaky-voiced assistant comes looking for me,” Taraka said. Lee raised his eyebrow, amused. 

“Don't look at me like that,” Taraka said. “The Council assigned him to me. Fu's a hard worker, and obscenely competent. If the tradeoff is his questionable voice, then it's a good trade.” 

“Well, you're the one who has to suffer through it, so...” 

Taraka bumped his head with the back of her hand, giggling like a schoolgirl. Lee never failed to bring out this side of her—this lovestruck, youthful, and ultimately vulnerable side of her—and it worried her to some degree. Still, when he looked up at her, his eyes alight with honest adoration that she was sure he himself wasn't aware of, she was mollified.

“Here, I forgot to give this to you.” 

She slid a gilded invitation under his notes on Republic City's non-bender laws, patiently waiting for him to respond.

“Taraka, I don't know,” Lee said, sighing deeply. 

Taraka shrugged. “Keep it anyway. Whatever you decide, at least this is an option.”

Lee pulled her down for a kiss, and she could practically feel the guilt in it, giving her a selfish hope he'd be there for her sake. It was, at the very least, an excuse to see how he looked in formal wear—but more than that, she felt as though she could do anything with him around, less the politician's self-certainty and more the fragile but deep-seated feeling of invincibility in love.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, long after she'd bid Lee goodbye with a kiss and a wave, she didn't realize she was still smiling like an adolescent fool until she was bombarded with the questions of a hyperactive airbender girl where she'd expected to see the Avatar.

“Heyyy you're the council lady who visited us at dinner one time! What're you doing here?” said the girl, whose name Taraka could not remember. 

“I, ah, I was looking for Korra.” 

“Oh, she's training right now, but I could take you to where she is. But she's with daddy, and I don't think daddy likes you very much. But Korra said she likes you so maybe it's okay. But I don't wanna get in trouble with daddy.” 

Taraka shook her head, wondering how on earth so many words could come out of one mouth in such a short period of time.

“Um, well, you could just tell him I insisted if he gets upset with you,” she said. 

The little girl looked thoughtful for a moment, before exclaiming, “Okay! Come on, the training's this way.”

As they walked, Taraka was treated to even more questions. She wondered if it was too late to turn tail and run.

“Why do you have three ponytails? And how come you smell like a guy's cologne? And why do you wear fur if it's not winter? And are you old like daddy or are you a lot younger than daddy but older than me? And are you from where Korra's from or are you from somewhere else?” 

“Hey!” Taraka said loudly, holding back a curse. “I have a question for you,” she said, regaining her composure. 

“But you haven't answered any of mine!” 

“Well... My three ponytails are for my father. It's symbolic of my family ties,” she explained slowly. “And as for... do I really smell like a man's cologne?” She sniffed her arm and froze. Yes, she did smell quite a bit like Lee's subtle scent. It was unassuming, but apparently, quite noticeable. 

“Uh huh! Oh! Wait! Is it because you were with somebody?” she asked, her words slowing to tease. 

Taraka smirked. “I was with my... boyfriend, yes.”

The little girl gasped loudly, her excitement palpable as she bounced.

“Oooh you have a boyfriend? But aren't you too old? Or maybe daddy just married young. You don't look that old. Does daddy know you have a boyfriend?” 

“I can't imagine Tenzin cares what or who I do in my spare time. Anyway, what's your name? You've said probably more words to me than I exchanged in the last eight hours, and you still haven't introduced yourself.” 

“Oh, my name's Ikki! I'm second eldest. Ohh but that's so romantic! Is he a secret boyfriend? Do you kiss a lot and sing songs and write poems and dance in flowers and rainbows and sparkles?” 

Taraka snorted, unable to hold back her laughter. “You're... precocious, aren't you? I can't believe a hard-a—um, a strict man like Tenzin would raise somebody so... rambunctious.”

“Ikki? What are you doing?” 

Taraka looked up to see Tenzin's wife, Pema, standing at the top of the steps, looking disapprovingly on.

“Pema! Your daughter here was just showing me to where Korra was.” 

“She's training,” Pema said flatly, just about as immune to Taraka's charms as her husband was. “I'm sure I can get one of the air acolytes to find you a place to stay while you wait for her to finish.”

“Mommy, mommy, did you know that ponytail lady has a secret boyfriend?” Ikki said, gusting up air to where her mother stood. “It's so romantic, isn't it?” 

“Well I never—what in the world possessed you to share anything about your... your exploits to my children?” Pema said angrily at Taraka, who met the barbed words with sharp ones of her own. 

“Despite what lies you might believe that your husband might love to tell about me over dinner, I do not like being insulted, or your insinuation that I'd talk about inappropriate things in front of your children.” 

“You—you need to leave! Right now,” Pema said stonily. 

“Mommy? I'm sorry...” 

“Ikki, it's fine,” Pema said shortly. “Go find your siblings.”

“I will not leave until I've spoken to Korra,” Taraka said. “And until you've apologized for insulting me.” 

“I—”

“Pema? What's going on? Ikki just ran by, saying something about revealing a secret, she was very upset—”

Tenzin stopped, spotting Taraka on the steps.

“Taraka,” he said. “What are you doing here?” 

“Well, Tenzin, apparently, I'm having my virtue insulted by your wife,” Taraka said roughly. 

“What do you—what are—”

“Taraka!” 

Taraka was surprised when Korra rounded the corner, launching herself beyond where Pema and Tenzin stood and landing in front of the councilwoman, beaming at her despite her haggard appearance.

“I've been training for hours! Ugh, I'm so glad you're here. Is it something important? Or better yet, something not important? Either way, it'll be a welcome break. Let's go!”

“Not until I find out what happened here!” Tenzin said firmly. 

“Ponytail lady told me a secret and I told mommy the secret and mommy got angry and ponytail lady got angry and mommy told me to go but I didn't go because I ruined everything and I'm sorry!” Ikki interjected from the door. Tenzin stared open-mouthed at his daughter for a moment before turning back to Taraka. 

“What?”

“It's my fault,” Pema said reluctantly. “I made an assumption and I said something I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Councilwoman, especially for insulting you,” she said genuinely, looking Taraka in the eye. Taraka was tempted to say something harsh, but she knew this was an opportunity to at least soften Pema's (and by extension, Tenzin's) opinion of her, to benefit her in the long run. 

“I accept your apology,” she said. 

“Wait, insulting you? What happened?” Korra asked. Taraka shook her head. “It's not important,” she said. 

Tenzin sighed. “Well, whatever it was, Korra, don't go too far. I'm sure if Councilwoman Taraka came here to speak to you, you don't have to leave to make conversation.”

“We'll take the cliff,” Korra said quickly before Tenzin could argue, rushing Taraka down the steps to the place overlooking the bay. 

“So what happened? And not that I'm not stoked to see you, but why'd you come by today?” Korra asked. 

The overlook was beautiful, and Taraka could see the waves crashing on the shore of Air Temple Island, the lights of Republic City on the horizon.

“I was... making conversation with Tenzin's daughter—”

“Making conversation with Ikki? You should get a prize for that. Most people can't get past the first twenty words,” Korra said. 

“She's very overwhelming,” Taraka agreed. “She asked me why I smelled like a man's cologne. I answered her, and Pema misunderstood the situation.” 

“Wait, what?” Korra said, bewildered. “You smell like what now? Man's cologne? You don't smell like—” Korra gave a cursory sniff. 

“Oh my gosh, you do smell like a guy's cologne. But you love those flowery perfumes of yours,” Korra said, realization slowly seeping into her voice and face. 

Taraka raised an eyebrow as she pointed (rudely, though the councilwoman chose not to comment) in shock.

“You—are you—do you have a boyfriend?” Korra said. 

“A lady doesn't kiss and tell,” Taraka joked, aware of how obvious the answer was anyway. 

“Wow! Well you're obviously doing a lot better than I am. What's he like? Oh no, is it a secret? Should I not be talking about it?” Korra asked. 

“I don't mind in the slightest,” Taraka said. “I came here to see how you were doing, and you seem to be doing a lot better.” 

“Oh, yeah! Training with the Fire Ferrets is going great, and if things go well, we might actually get into the finals!” 

“This means a lot to you,” Taraka observed. 

“Well, yeah. It's something I'm actually _good_ at that isn't part of my Avatar responsibilities.” 

“I respect that,” Taraka said. “But I hope you'll consider taking up your Avatar duties again soon. The Equalists have been quiet as of late, and we haven't gotten any reports of chi-blocker camps recently.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” Korra said. 

“Not if they're planning something big. This might just be the quiet before a storm,” Taraka said gravely. “I just want you to be careful.” 

“Oh, and one more thing!” Taraka remembered, raising a finger. “I have something for you.” 

She handed Korra a card, beautifully designed, as always.

“Another party?” Korra said. 

“In honor of the hardworking task force deputies,” Taraka said. “You're welcome to come if you want. Plus one, in case you want to invite that firebender of yours.” 

“Wh—what?” Korra stuttered. “I'm not—he's not—we're not—”

“Korra.” 

“Ugh,” Korra sighed heavily. “He's got a girlfriend. And I like him a lot and I think he likes me too but what am I supposed to do? Did you ever have these problems?” 

“Not particularly, no,” Taraka said. “The only men I ever loved were devoted to me, and the rest just weren't good enough.” 

“Wow, you're a bit of an ice queen, aren't you?” Korra remarked. 

“Why bother with needless anxiety?” Taraka reasoned. “You're the Avatar. You are, by that virtue, better than any girl this boy you like should ever even consider.”

“It's Asami Sato,” Korra said. 

“Hiroshi Sato's daughter?” Taraka asked. When Korra nodded, she then said, “I see. Well then I suppose you should just give up.” 

“Wow! Thanks for that helpful piece of advice,” Korra said dryly. 

“You want advice? Here's mine: Don't doubt yourself. The moment you do is the moment you set yourself up to fall. If you truly want to be with this boy, then know it'll happen. Don't just consider it, and don't just believe it. _Know._ And it'll happen.” 

Korra whistled softly. “Does that always work for you?”

Taraka thought back to the weeks after her brother was lost, where she'd convinced herself she'd see him over the snowbanks one day, coming home, finally, from a long journey to clear his head.

“No. Not always. But,” she said, lightening, “that doesn't mean it doesn't work. If you want something, take it. You can't wait around for the world to give it to you.” 

Korra smiled shyly. “Thanks, Taraka. Seriously.”

Taraka smiled back. “It's nice,” she said thoughtfully. “You're like the little sister I never had. I was only ever the younger sibling—and then the only child. I don't think I've ever been an elder sister before.” 

Korra sobered. “If you don't mind me asking,” she said, “what happened to your brother?” 

“I... he ran away,” Taraka said. “Into a blizzard. We searched for days but we couldn't find him. He probably died in that storm.” 

“Probably?” 

“I entertained the notion that he might still be alive, that he might come back to us,” Taraka said. “But he and my father... they didn't get along. Even if he _didn't_ die all those years ago, I don't think he'd have come back.” 

“But you said you were close,” Korra said. “If he were still alive, I'm sure he'd have come back for you.” 

Taraka bit her lip, remembering the full moon, the necklace, and the greatest mistake of her young life. 

“No, he wouldn't have,” she said coldly. “It's been years, anyway. It doesn't matter now.” 

“If he still inspires you until today, I doubt it _doesn't matter._ And I may not know a lot about siblings or brothers,” Korra said, “but speaking as your honorary little sister, I think your brother would have been proud of you. You're practically a hero, here.”

“Well, first I have to defeat Amon,” Taraka said. “To be called a hero. But I can't do that alone. That's why we'd do better as a team than apart.” 

Korra opened her mouth to respond, but Taraka cut in, “I know you're not going to rejoin the task force, and I know your encounter with Amon left you shaken. But you will have to face him again someday. Taking down the Equalist threat either starts with him or ends with him. You have to accept that sooner or later.” 

Korra looked just about as insecure as Taraka felt, so she added, “We're a team, remember? I won't let you face Amon alone, Korra. Not again.” 

And they clasped hands in silent agreement, in a promise of kinship that Taraka felt more deeply about than well-laid political plans she'd had previously, to get the Avatar on her side. 

She meant what she said, and she wouldn't turn her back on kin. She wouldn't do what he did, when he ran away. She'd stand her ground, even if it meant that one day, she would have to face the man whose mask struck fear in the hearts of all benders, and perhaps even see what lay beneath the icon, the nightmare of the Equalist leader. 

 


	8. The Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taraka thinks back to the full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this longer before I posted it but I wanted to post it more so here! I'll make up for the length in the next part ;) Thank you for all the support, the kudos and the comments! They mean a lot to me, the comments especially!

_Twenty years ago..._

The full moon shone brighter and closer than it had for over a year, lighting up the snow like a long, blue morning.

From where she stood, high on the icy hill where her house was near, Taraka could see waterbenders across the village practicing, from where she stood, taking advantage of the moon and its power. She laughed to herself at how pitifully childish their attempts were, and with a deep breath, she raised an enormous sphere of water above her head, spinning in a constant, steady motion.

She sent a water whip as far as she could across the village. The control it took was monumental, but with the power of the moon, she was able to feel the water even when it was almost a mile away, and was able to lead it right down into the sea.

“Noa, did you see that!?” she exclaimed, jumping in excitement and triumph. But when she turned to where her brother had been sitting, she found him gone. 

Taraka huffed.  _He_ was the one who asked  _her_ to join him and suddenly he had the audacity to abandon her on the top of the hill like an idiot?

“Noatak?” she called, sliding down the hill. “Noatak, where'd you go?” 

She found him easily in the light of the moon, kneeling at the cliffside where he often sat in silence, brooding and thoughtful. He wasn't brooding now—his head was bowed low, and he held something in his hands.

Taraka watched with wide eyes as clouds began to pass over the moon, filtering the light through a single ray, like the sun on a bright morning.

Quickly, Noatak bent two icicles to hold the object he had in-between, making the light even stronger than it was before.

Taraka looked up, and in the ray of light, she thought she saw a figure, the faintest shape of a beautiful woman who glowed white as the moon itself.

Too soon, it was over. The clouds passed, and the moon shone over the land one again.

Taraka approached cautiously.

“Noatak?” she said. “What just happened?” 

When Noatak turned, he was smiling wider than she'd seen in... in years. He ran over and hugged her, picking her up in his excitement.

“You saw that, didn't you? You did see that?” Noatak said breathlessly, still holding Taraka up off the ground. 

“Y—yeah! The moonlight, and—I thought I saw—”

“Yue! It was Yue! You see, little sis? We're blessed,” he laughed, putting her down. 

“What was that all about?” Taraka asked after, still giddy from her brother's reaction. 

“Don't tell me you've already forgotten,” he said playfully. From the raised ice, he freed the object that he'd had with him, revealing it to be a—

“A betrothal necklace?” Taraka whispered. “You mean you actually...” 

“I did cheat a bit. I started it way before tonight. But then I found out from our spiritual leaders down in the village that there is a way to have something blessed by Yue on a full moon, and I thought there'd be no harm in trying. And look! Yue did bless us. Both of us.” 

When Taraka finally got a good look at the pendant in Noatak's hand, she gasped.

It was beautiful. More than that, it was the most intricate and ornate and alarmingly well-done betrothal necklace she'd ever seen. Where most of the necklaces Taraka was used to were simply round pendants carved with shapes, Noatak had taken it one step further.

The moonstone formed the center of the pendant, flanked on its right by a crescent moon of dark blue sapphire, carved finely with the waves of the sea. It was at the center of an open hand made from mother-of-pearl, fastened to the lace by other beautiful crystals and stones Taraka could not identify.

It was the most beautiful thing in the world, she thought, and it was hers.

“Are you... crying?” 

“What?” 

There were indeed tears in her eyes, and she wiped them away hastily.

“This is... this is probably the most beautiful and valuable thing anyone's ever given to me,” she said. “And I doubt anything else in the world could top this.” 

“Only the best for you,” Noatak said lightly. 

“I wish—” Taraka stopped, cutting herself off before she could finish. 

“You wish what?” Noatak asked curiously. 

“I wish it were real,” she whispered. 

Noatak was quiet for a moment. “Let me put this on you,” he said, and she nodded.

She turned around, and he clasped the beautiful necklace around her neck, before turning her around again and pulling her into a tight, tender embrace.

“We're real,” he said seriously, “and so was the blessing Yue gave us. Both of us. This is a promise, a _real_ promise. We'll always be together.” 

The overwhelming swell of emotion in Taraka's chest was like a wave, and she reached up, and before she could rationalize another thought, she kissed him.

For all ten seconds, it was bliss. He held her, even relaxed into the kiss, but abruptly, his arms dropped from her sides and he pushed her away.

“I'm sorry!” she said immediately. Her reaction was immediate, to fix whatever her mistake was, to repair what she might have broken. “I was just—”

“It's fine,” Noatak said stiffly. 

“Noa, I—”

“I said it's fine, Taraka,” he said, all the warmth gone from his tone. 

“No, it's not! I ruined it, and I'm sorry, I didn't—”

“I know you didn't mean it,” Noatak said. 

“I didn't say that!” Taraka said, but Noatak was already walking away, walking back to their home. “Noatak, please, listen to me!” 

“I shouldn't have done this,” Noatak said sharply. 

Anger surged in Taraka's heart. “If you regret it so much then take it back! I don't want it if that's how you're going to be!” She tried unclasping it, clumsily, her gloves making it doubly difficult, until she was shedding tears of frustration, dropping to her knees in the snow.

She sobbed into her hands.  _She'd ruined it_ and now it wouldn't be okay and  _it was all her fault._

She was startled by the sudden weight of an embrace over her curled form, and Noatak hugged her tight, warm and encompassing.

For a moment, as she returned the hug and he kissed the top of her head, she thought that maybe, it would be okay.

For a while, they found their footing again, their rapport returning to the way it was before. Sometimes, Taraka would slip her hand into his, and sometimes Noatak would kiss her forehead, innocent touches that held promise and change, all the same.

Weeks later, her father ordered them to bloodbend each other.

After that, she knew that things would never be okay again.

 

 


	9. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysteries and kidnappings. Things start to heat up as the Equalists get bolder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote up an entire outline for the plot :)) So I hope you like where this goes.

“Keep an eye on those matches, and report back with the results. I do believe the famed Wolfbats are throwing their weight around enough for the people to see. I want to make an example out of them.” 

“Yes, Amon,” the chi-blocker agents said, bowing swiftly and respectfully before leaving. 

As they left through the single door to Amon's... office, as it were, Kwan pushed himself away from the wall just as Hiroshi Sato entered.

“Sending people to watch bending matches? Kind of ironic, all things considered,” Hiroshi remarked. 

“That you're funding one of the teams playing tonight—now that's irony,” Kwan returned. Amon smiled behind the mask. “All for the same ends, Hiroshi,” he said. 

He nodded to his Lieutenant, who nodded back in understanding. “Take over,” he said. “If there are any concerns, I expect you to handle them.”

“Understood,” Kwan said seriously. “Have fun at your party,” he added lightly. 

“You're leaving?” Hiroshi said, mouth slightly agape. “For a party?” 

“All for the same ends,” Kwan echoed. “Our fearless leader's going undercover.” 

Hiroshi seemed to have nothing to say, so the Lieutenant continued. “What, did you think he sat around hiding all day, only going out to make speeches?”

“But your face...” 

“You'd be surprised what a little makeup can do,” Kwan said. “Isn't that right, fearless leader?” 

Amon trusted Kwan with his life, but the man had a mouth on him.

“The Lieutenant will remain in charge for the time being. Direct all concerns to him,” he said. 

Hiroshi looked humbled for a moment. “There was one concern,” he said.

“Yes?” 

“The finals. If those... Fire Ferrets win tonight's round, Asami will be there for them on the day we strike, the day we reveal the power of the revolution.” 

“I'm sure you'll find a way to keep her safe,” Amon said with a weight that made it clear he wasn't merely brushing Hiroshi's concerns off. “Family is important, Hiroshi. Do what you must.” 

“Of course. Yes. I don't suppose you have any family left,” Hiroshi said carefully. 

“... No. I don't,” Amon answered after some thought, walking out, finally, leaving them to themselves.

 

 

* * *

 

The party was in full swing, and Taraka was distracted.

Oh, she played the part of the host perfectly, to be sure, but the few people who were around her enough to know could see she was waiting for somebody.

There were murmurs from the task force deputies and the clearly tempted reporters who'd been invited to the scene to take photos and get a few details, but who were barred from harassing—that was, asking questions of the attendees.

Taraka shook her head. It wasn't as though he'd given her a definitive yes. She was being moronic, wasting her time waiting when she should have been attending to guests and gaining support for her task force, which had been slowing down with the marked decrease in reports about Equalist camps.

The press seemed to think it was a failure on their part, especially with the rising tensions and the rumors in Republic City's underworld about something big coming, something that had the triads cowering in the face of Amon and his Equalists. 

She had no sympathy for those criminals, but if they were worried, then she should be too.

“Well if it isn't my favorite star politician!” said a loud, jovial voice, one that had Taraka flinching for one moment then smiling widely the next, all teeth and transparent only to the intelligent. 

And intelligent was an understatement, if used to describe the man approaching her. He had many fooled with his eccentric and amusing persona, but he was sharper and more manipulative than anyone Taraka had ever met—which was probably why they had gotten along so well the past fifteen years. Not that she ever trusted him. No, it would be foolish to trust this man, no matter how generous he was with his friends. He would just as easily lend you a helping hand as he would stab you in the back, if it suited him. It was, admittedly, something she admired about him.

“Varrick! I thought you were in the South handling your company's trade connections. What a pleasant surprise,” Taraka greeted. 

“Not as pleasant as this food! You have _got_ to lend me a line to your caterer. These seaweed hors d'oeuvres are to die for! Zhu Li! Get me a recipe for these things!”

His assistant nodded obediently. “Yes sir,” she said.

“What brings you back to Republic City at such a trying time, Varrick?” Taraka asked, happy to get her mind off of distractions. 

“If this is what you consider a _trying_ time then I'd hate to see what a bad time looks like,” Varrick remarked. “A lot of benders have been packing it up to the South Pole. Earned a killing in my ferry partnership. Who knew wide-scale panic would be so profitable?” 

“You knew,” Taraka said bluntly. “And I suppose you don't have to worry, being a non-bender.” 

“Exactly! See, this is why you're my favorite, Councilwoman, you're a straight shooter, a real first class lady of the state. I'm hearing _hero of republic city_ being thrown around. I think it's a nice touch to that icy bender-leader persona you got going.”

Taraka's mouth twitched into a smirk. “What are you planning, Varrick?”

“Well I dunno, what am I planning? Wait, right! Zhu Li, gimme the, uh, the thing,” Varrick snapped his hand as he spoke, and his ever-reliable assistant quickly handed him a few papers. 

“What is this?” Taraka murmured, reading through the text and eying the grainy photos attached. 

“This is the kinda thing you oughta be paying attention to, Taraka,” Varrick said, his voice suddenly low and serious. “These are records of closed shipments made through my partners just about a week ago. And those photos show that whatever these things are, they are enormous. And they were made under _your_ name.” He leaned in closer. “And if that's not enough, some of my partners' more observant employees said they spotted you with a tail during those trips of yours to Dragon Flats. You were being followed, and filing of these shipments were being made at the same time as your clandestine visits.”

Taraka was frozen. This was something damaging, something she was completely unaware of, and she grit her teeth at the thought that someone would manipulate her like that.

“Now I know you well enough that you don't have anything nearly big enough that you need to hide ferried back and forth along ports in Republic City. And I've very publicly supported pretty much everything you do, since I know you're smart enough not to screw it up, but even a tiger shark can get harpooned and skinned if she's caught off-guard. And I don't want the tiger-shark I'm backing to get harpooned, if you catch my meaning.” 

She owed Varrick big for this one. Very big. He would never let her live this down.

“Varrick...” 

“Now no need to thank me!” he said, his tone switching back to jovial, belying the dark shadow on his brow. “Just invite me to more of these high-rolling parties of yours! You always host the best ones. Isn't that right everybody?” he said loudly, and a few people agreed cheerfully, some even raising their glasses for a mock toast. 

“You've got it, Varrick,” Taraka said, faking a charming smile. It quickly transformed into a real, albeit shocked one, when she spotted somebody coming through the door, presenting an invitation to prove he wasn't a crasher. 

“Lee!” Taraka called, and the man smiled warmly when he saw her, advancing at a quick pace that slowed when Varrick turned around and spotted him as well. 

“Well hey! If it isn't lawyer Lee. More of my favorite people under the same roof, must be my lucky day.” 

“Varrick. What a surprise,” Lee said, much less adept at hiding his suspicion than Taraka was. “I didn't know you two were acquainted,” he said, nodding at Taraka. 

“Yeah, me and the Councilwoman go way back! Sold her her first radio when I only had one ship and leading Republic City was just a pipe dream.” 

Taraka smiled at the memory. “I remember. My father still has that radio, even when I offered to get him newer ones. Stubborn man, my dad.” 

She thought she caught Lee frowning, but when she met his gaze his features practically melted into tenderness. “What about you, Lee? How'd you meet Varrick?” 

“Lee and I go as far back as we do, Taraka!” Varrick said just as Lee opened his mouth to answer. “Met him when he needed a ride out to the city. He had big dreams back then too, and I knew he was gonna go far. Look at us! Three water tribe visionaries gone further than we expected as young adults. I could make a story out of that. Hey Taraka, remind me to show you my new idea later on! It's gonna knock your socks off!” 

“Of course, Varrick,” Taraka said distractedly. “So you're water tribe too?” she said to Lee.

“... Yes. I may not look it...” 

“Your eyes are green,” Taraka pointed out. 

“They're contact lenses,” he answered. “Differently colored. Let's just say my past was... something I needed to leave behind. I've worn these contacts for so long I forgot what it was like to find somebody I didn't want to hide from.”

“Ooh, looks like I'm a third wheel,” Varrick said quietly. “Come on, Zhu Li, let's mingle.” And with that, and a flurry of boundless eccentric energy, Varrick left the two to themselves. 

“Can I see them?” Taraka asked after Varrick left. 

“See what?” 

“Your eyes. I mean, not now, obviously, but...” 

“It's fine,” Lee said quickly. Taraka couldn't have guessed how awkward this would go, now that he was here. He was dressed in fine, muted red tones, a classic suit that made him look very good, enough to turn heads. 

“I'm glad you came,” Taraka said. “I know I shouldn't have expected it, but I was hoping you would.” 

“I was halfway out the door before I'd really decided. I'm completely useless at this sort of thing,” Lee said sheepishly, “but you have my arm, and me, for the whole night for whatever you need,” he said, taking her hand and tucking her arm under his. 

The moment was ruined by the rapid bursts of flash photography, and Taraka helpfully turned them both away from the camera-people who were kept to the side, but undeterred by the distance when they needed to get a story. 

“Let's go get a drink,” Taraka said, winking, as they made their way as far away from the prying press as possible. 

“I don't think I've ever met a water tribe man named Lee before,” Taraka remarked. “Unless that's filed under the past you had to leave behind?” 

“Something like that,” Lee said. 

“Just when I thought I had you pegged, you add a whole new layer of mystery to my life,” Taraka sighed. “I'd be happier if my lap wasn't piling up with mysteries. Not exactly something I can enjoy when those mysteries might kill me.” 

“I promise that my mysteries won't kill you,” Lee said lightly. 

“They better not. So... any mysteries you can reveal now, or are they as difficult to get out as your contacts?” 

“Well, I _am_ from the Northern Water Tribe.” 

“Mysteries I don't already know,” Taraka laughed. 

“I... I left because I was running away from a mistake I made,” Lee said solemnly. “Varrick helped me get to Republic City and change my name.” 

“So I have Varrick to blame for such a generic name.” 

“It served its purpose. I found myself living in Dragon Flats for lack of funds. Varrick promised he'd help me if I helped him someday, but at the bottom of the heap and new to city life, I didn't have much to offer. I made friends, saw firsthand what bending triads did to the city, studied law, went to university. My best friend kept trying to help me date this girl I saw in a bar once,” he chuckled. “He bought her a drink, tried to get her to talk to me. She refused, and he told me she was pining after an old love.” 

Taraka's eyes widened. “That was you. Of course it was you. You remember that?” 

“I can't believe _you_ remember that. It was embarrassing.” 

“You were the most gorgeous man I'd seen since I got into the city,” Taraka admitted. “It wasn't that embarrassing. So you recognized me? Later?” 

“A couple years down the line, when you were starting to get visible. You worked under a lot of non-bending officials, you seemed to have the city's best interests at heart. I was glad to become your friend.” 

“Is that all we are?” Taraka teased. “Friends?” 

Lee smirked, leaning forward. “I'd kiss you right now if it wasn't for those idiotic reporters.” 

“Well it's not like we're being subtle,” Taraka replied. 

“Well, as long as we're not being subtle,” Lee said, pulling her along to the side of the hall, into one of the unlit pathways to the offices. 

“Lee, what—”

“Come on!” he said, a mischievous spark in his eyes shining in the meager light. He pulled her aside, behind one of the walls hiding them from the main hall, and kissed her deeply. 

“Lee, this is a public place!” Taraka laughed as he nipped at her neck. 

“I don't care,” he said breathlessly. “Taraka—”

Taraka shut him up with a searing kiss of her own. “I just realized,” she said, “I don't care either.” 

Suddenly, the light from the main hall went out, plunging them into darkness and cutting them off. “What the—” Taraka began. 

She heard a commotion, and the blunt sound of punches being thrown and bodies hitting the floor. Then the breaking of glass from high above had her rushing into action. “Lee?” she said, gripping his hand. 

“I'm here.”

“Stay here,” she instructed. “I have to get to my office.” 

“I'm coming with you.” 

“You really don't want to be in the way with what I'm about to do,” she said, and he didn't argue as she ran up the steps. 

 

The only light that shone into the blackout was that of the giant airship hovering above city hall. Officers from Taraka's task force were being pulled up by Equalists on ropes, paralyzed by chi-blockers. There were calls for the authorities and for reinforcements, but they were slow in coming, kept back by the advanced airship weaponry, unable to come to the aid of the unsuspecting party-goers. 

A number of the task force deputies were putting up an admirable fight, some half-chi-blocked but still bending. The waterbenders went first—no sources of water readily available beyond those in punchbowls and served drinks. 

As the last few deputies stood their ground, they heard a rumbling, cutting the commotion of screams, cries, and shouts into silence. 

“What is that?” 

“What's happening?” 

The Equalists seemed just as confused. The lights from the airship shone down, trying to find the source of the rumbling. 

They found it too late. 

From the second floor, an enormous wave crashed down into the hall, overwhelming the Equalists unlucky enough to still be on the ground. They were frozen to the floor and wall as the water crashed into them, and what remained crested into a high wave, plucking Equalists and their bender captives out of the air, where they clung desperately, low enough for the water to get them. 

“Over there!” somebody yelled, and the white searchlight shone down on the second floor balcony, where Taraka stood, bending the water on a scale few had ever seen, arms wide and gestures sweeping as she sent whips of water up to drag the Equalist kidnappers down. 

There were cries of fear as the masked men and women scrambled up and were pulled quicker out through the roof, taking a few incapacitated benders with them. 

In one last desperate move, Taraka froze the water from her whips into sharp points, and sent icicles shooting up through the broken glass. Some of them hit their mark, cutting rope and even flesh as some Equalists were grazed. One of them dropped the bender they were carrying, and two more of the kidnappers themselves fell. Taraka caught them in a sphere of water, trapping the Equalists and gently laying the benders down. 

“Councilwoman, look out!” one of her deputies warned. 

That was all the warning Taraka got before she was struck from the back, a painful yet numbing punch delivered up her arm and her back. She bent with her other arm at the Equalist who struck her, but another one dropped down behind her and as she dodged an attempt to incapacitate her other arm, she lost her footing and stumbled backward off the balcony. 

“Councilwoman!” her deputies cried. 

“Taraka!” 

Her numb arm was grabbed and she was swung right back up. Lee stood before her in a fighting stance, eyes narrowed at the two Equalists who'd been left behind to finish her. 

They seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking at each other and back at Lee, before apparently deciding something and rushing him. 

“Lee!” Taraka cried. 

Though the Equalists were fast, none of their blows landed. Taraka couldn't believe it, but Lee was faster than even they were, dodging and throwing punches almost identical to their own. He struck pressure points with the same precision, and with two fingers struck the neck of one of the Equalists, knocking them out, before doing the same to the other one—or trying to.

This one put up more of a fight, grunting and kicking and jabbing wildly, throwing Lee off. The Equalist kicked his legs out from under him and, in a split second, threw him off the balcony much in the same way they'd almost done to Taraka. 

“No!” Taraka yelled. She looked down and saw Lee lying unconscious on the floor, some people gathering to help him. He was unmoving, and from this distance, Taraka couldn't see if he was breathing. 

Panicked fear quickly turned into cold, unforgiving anger, and the water that was still spread out across the floor reared up at Taraka's call. The Equalist jumped at her, trying to stop her before the water could get to her, but gurgled in shock, dropping in mid-air, paralyzed by an unseen force. 

Taraka's hand tensed as the water flowed up and surrounded the two Equalists, the sphere of water keeping them submerged. She watched as they began to struggle not to drown, unable to break out of the water Taraka had trapped them in. 

“Taraka!” 

Lee's voice cut through her rage like a knife, and she dropped her hand, unceremoniously dropping the Equalists from her grip as well. They spluttered and coughed, dragging their masks off to breathe, and Taraka froze their arms and legs to the ground, keeping them in place. 

“You got off easy,” she said, slowly standing up, clutching her numb arm. They looked at her in pure unadulterated terror, even trying to get free when she approached. She'd almost forgotten how good it felt to have somebody fear you. 

The airships had gone, and somebody got the power back on. She looked down and saw Lee getting up, assisted by some of the people around him. She bent ice and made her way down quickly. He caught her just as she collapsed from exhaustion, wondering how it was that Lee knew how to chi-block just like an Equalist. 

 


	10. Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this one, except that sometimes I'm tempted to throw the relationship tags out and add new ones, but I have to restrain myself. Oh well. Slight/implied/barely there Lieutenant/Amon and Tenzin/Taraka ahoy!

He drove her home when the medics made sure she wasn't injured. She insisted that they tend to her deputies, and did a headcount of those missing. Fewer than she thought, but still. Six men and women lost to the Equalists that day was a loss Taraka could not stand for, despite her own gain in the seven captured Equalists they were able to bring into custody.

The medics had given her a sedative, and she was so out of it that Lee had to carry her over the threshold. She wasn't yet asleep, but she was drifting between dreams and waking. She could hear the quiet, sweet hum of a familiar lullaby, but she couldn't decide whether she was only dreaming or if Lee somehow knew the same Northern lullaby Noatak loved to sing to her when they were young.

Even half out of it and drugged to her gills, Taraka could register the cold, sinking feeling of suspicion starting from her throat and moving down to her heart. Lee wasn't who he seemed, had so many secrets that she felt the barest tinge of disgust when he held her, spoiling the warmth and love she associated with his presence.

He chi-blocked those Equalists. He lived in a place where the Equalists thrived the most, the largest settlement on non-benders in the city. He had a good sense of justice, a sword sharpened by hardship and his proximity to those most affected by the triads and their violence.

And even if he  _did_ truly love her, that didn't necessarily mean he was on her side. 

She had no memory of falling asleep, only of waking when Lee entered her house at first light, gone for spirits knew how long on an errand she knew nothing about.

 

* * *

 

 

“Amon isn't here.” 

“What do you mean he isn't here? We have six benders restrained in the trucks, and they could wake up and regain their bending at any time. We need them equalized or—”

“Enough.” 

Kwan turned around, chilled that he didn't hear his leader approach. The Equalist in front of him stood tall, saluting Amon as he approached.

“Amon, sir...”

“What happened?” Amon demanded, ignoring the other man in favor of speaking to his Lieutenant. 

“There was a raid on that party they were throwing for the task force. Jiya here led the force, but the plan was Hiroshi's. A _test run,_ he said.” 

“And you didn't stop him?” Amon said coldly. 

The Lieutenant frowned. “I didn't know until we heard the reports on the radio.”

Amon turned to the other Equalist, Jiya, at last. Jiya stiffened under the masked gaze.

“An unsanctioned raid,” Amon said slowly. 

“We... we thought...” 

“You thought what? That I would approve of a premature attack? That an unplanned assault behind my back would help the cause?” Amon said, leaning close enough that his subordinate could see the narrowing of his eyes. 

Jiya flinched visibly, despite the hood hiding his expression. “We thought you knew! Sir,” he forced out.

Amon pulled away. “So Hiroshi lied to you.”

“I—yes. I'm sorry,” Jiya answered. 

Amon nodded. “Lead me to your captives. Lieutenant, bring Hiroshi here. When I return, we will have words.”

“We... we lost seven of our own,” Jiya said lowly. 

“I am aware,” Amon said as he followed the other's steps. 

“You are? But you just...” Jiya shook his head, thinking better of questioning their figurehead. “Sifu Lee was there, at the party. One of our master chi-blockers. He was the reason Hasu and Shi Zin were captured. He was protecting the Councilwoman Taraka.”

“Good.”

Even masked, the other man was able to express utter bewilderment.

“Good?” he repeated. 

“Hiroshi is a fool,” Amon said. “Bad enough he alerted the city to our resources, but what do you think would have happened if we had taken one of the members of the Council, one who, at this moment, is being hailed a 'hero of Republic City', who has ties to the Avatar herself?” 

Jiya was silent.

“Retaliation, on a grand scale. Taraka is a representative of the Northern Water Tribe, a person of importance to their Chief, Unalaq. He would have precedent to assist Republic City, and he would send troops to rally against us. Not to mention her growing friendship with the Avatar, and the fact that we have yet to neutralize Beifong's metalbending force. We are still weak, and Hiroshi's actions have done nothing more than make us seven troops weaker.” 

Jiya nodded slowly. “I understand, sir,” he said. “I am truly sorry for our transgression.”

“You need not apologize,” Amon said. “That responsibility falls to Hiroshi Sato.” 

The Equalist bowed low when they got to the trucks. “My loyalty is with you, leader,” he said solemnly. Behind the mask, Amon looked down, his own shame hidden from the world.

 

* * *

 

 

If it weren't for the radio, Korra might have never known about the night's raid.

Buzzing from their pro-bending win, tainted by the underlying dread she felt and softened by the relief that she, Mako and Bolin had reconciled after their love-triangle induced fight, Korra was just about ready to sleep the day off when she heard the report, attention caught by the mention of Councilwoman Taraka's involvement.

She'd been planning to catch up to the party, but it slipped her mind while she stayed to heal Bolin and was too focused on the pressures of the day to remember. If she'd been there...

Torn between guilt for not helping Taraka and relief that she wasn't there to face the Equalist threat, Korra stumbled over to where the White Lotus guards were gathered around, listening to the report.

“Councilwoman Taraka was able to subdue at least four of the Equalist attackers, according to witnesses. She has since been sent home to rest with minor injuries with her companion, who has yet to be identified, but who was also seen fighting the Equalists alongside the Councilwoman, all without the use of bending.”

Korra was already halfway down the steps when Tenzin dropped down to stop her.

“Where do you think you're going?” he questioned.

“I'm going to see Taraka,” Korra said strongly, trying to get past him. “I know you hate her, but she's my friend and I can't just leave her alone.”

“She's your...” Tenzin began, though it seemed he thought better of it as he instead went on to say, “I don't hate her. We have our disagreements, but I trust Taraka as a fellow Councilwoman. I just think it's too late for you to be going out to Republic City to see her. Especially when she clearly needs her rest.”

Korra stopped, breathing slowly to calm herself.

“We can go see her first thing in the morning,” Tenzin promised.

“Yeah,” Korra said slowly. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

When Tenzin first met Taraka (properly, he thought, since he'd seen her in her earlier days and heard tell of her skill, but they'd never truly spoken before), it was to shake her hand as she took her seat on the Council, the youngest member to have been given that honor.

She had been much like Korra was now, Tenzin mused. Proud, but not heartless, bold and brash and unerring. Korra didn't have the woman's finesse, but Taraka never had Korra's capacity for honesty. They often clashed on many issues, her forward and aggressive ways directly opposing Tenzin's air nomad philosophies and pacifistic nature.

It didn't help that she seemed to enjoy tormenting him, just professional enough to not be childish but just offensive enough to grate on his nerves. She alternated between inappropriate flirtation and outright denigration, as though she drew pleasure out of seeing him lose his cool.

Still, he didn't hate her. He was above that, and he'd seen too much of her unwittingly complex character to truly hate her. Early into their acquaintance, Tenzin had been invited (out of courtesy and the politician's need to make a statement, more than anything else) to Taraka's home for lunch. He'd meant to bring Pema along, but she was feeling under the weather that day (still pregnant with Meelo and needing the rest), so it was just him. Her assistant, it turned out, was also her doorman for most of the day, and he told Tenzin the chefs were almost done with preparation, but that he could speak to Taraka in the training room if he wished.

Taraka's home was not a mansion, but it was certainly a sizable place for one person. It was elegantly decorated, not too garish or showy, and the size of the training room told Tenzin that Taraka was far from the impractical sort.

She was waterbending, that day, and Tenzin found himself speechless as he watched her practice unfamiliar forms, moving through the steps more gracefully than a dancer. Her waterbending, he knew, was superior, her control outstanding. Even Kya, an accomplished waterbender by any means, had never carried water with such control. It seemed to have a life of its own, flitting around Taraka like the body of a dragon in flight, her movements sometimes entirely independent of the water itself, but still following the same flow. Tenzin had seen quite a few masters in his time, and he could safely say that Taraka could pass as one, in skill if not in name.

She ended with the water flowing up across the center of the wall, slicing across the ceiling and stopping at the bottom of the opposite wall, frozen icicles protruding from three surfaces in a perfectly straight line. When she caught sight of Tenzin, panting from the effort of a well-performed routine, her face took on a mask of pleasantness, stiff mouth revealing the barest hints of contempt he was used to seeing on Taraka's face.

“That was some stunning bending,” Tenzin said in the kindest tone he could muster. He didn't have to lie through his teeth, thankfully—his awe was completely genuine.

Taraka seemed taken aback by the compliment. “Thank you,” she said instead of what biting remark she seemed to have waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“I've never seen anyone bend water so masterfully, at least, nobody so young,” Tenzin continued as Taraka wiped the sweat off her face with a towel.

“That's kind of you,” Taraka said conversationally. “I'm sure you've met many master benders, Councilman. Your mother was one of them, after all.”

“My mother knows what it is to have hard-earned skill,” Tenzin said. “I must say, Taraka, I misjudged you.”

“Because everything came so easily to me,” Taraka said dryly, her tone unimpressed.

“Because I let our conflicts cloud my judgment of you,” Tenzin clarified. “You are an amazing waterbender, Taraka, one of the best I've ever seen.”

Taraka blinked at him, like she wasn't used to hearing those words. It seemed strange, that someone who soaked up praise as much as Taraka could look so earnestly surprised at a well-deserved compliment. “Thank you, Tenzin,” she said.

It was one of the few conversations they ever had that didn't devolve into sniping and fighting. Lunch was equally as pleasant, and it occurred to Tenzin to write to his mother about Taraka's skill. One day and another Council meeting debacle later, Tenzin forgot all about his good impression of Taraka, and forgot to tell his mother of the power the Councilwoman possessed.

He was reminded of the fact of her bending prowess when he heard reports of her taking down thugs in what was played as self-defense, or in the way she handled the task force hunting the Equalists—most of all, Tenzin realized, when he heard what happened at the party.

Every time Tenzin thought he had her pegged, she would turn out more powerful and more effective than he could have ever imagined.

And Tenzin feared for anyone else who might make the grave mistake of underestimating her.

 

 


	11. Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loyalties are made known and Taraka makes a decision, while teaching Korra some waterbending moves.

Things were changing, and they began with Taraka waking to the first light of dawn streaming in from the window. The thoughts that haunted her from last night were still with her as she kissed Lee awake, settling herself on top of him as he drowsily came to.

They made love slowly and warmly, driven by the quiet peace of the morning, the illusion that all was well and there was nothing wrong at all. It helped to stave off the cold, the icy sear of pragmatism when faced with difficult choices, the one that Taraka was familiar with.

Still, she'd never had so much to lose, and the cold came back full force when she lay on one side of the bed, panting.

“Tell me a secret,” she murmured thoughtlessly.

“What?” Lee said groggily.

“Tell me something nobody else knows,” Taraka said. “Something I don't know. I won't ask you to divulge whatever you don't want to, but I want to know you can trust me with something.”

“What's this about?” Lee asked, his concern coloring Taraka's annoyance.

“It's nothing,” Taraka said, nigh on petulantly. “I understand the need for secrets, but until just yesterday, I didn't think yours would number the stars over the North Pole.”

“If this is about me being a Northerner...”

“Show me your eyes,” Taraka demanded. “Show me something, _anything_. Anything that will convince me your secrets are inconsequential, so I can get on with my life.”

“I got on with my life a long time ago, Taraka. My past is inconsequential,” Lee said angrily, his voice taking on that familiar rasp that Taraka once loved to laugh at. “You must understand, the only reason I kept it from you is because it doesn't matter anymore. It will never matter again, so why should it trouble what matters now?”

“This isn't about your past, Lee,” Taraka said.

“Then what is it about?”

“The fact that you can chi-block!” Taraka yelled. “That's what this is about. The fact that you were able to take down a couple of Equalists by beating them at their own game, and the fact that you seemed to be astoundingly proficient at it.”

All the fight seemed to leave Lee at once, and he looked down, ashamed.

Taraka deflated. This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to pretend she hadn't seen, believe that there was a better explanation than what she feared to hear now.

“Lee... Please,” she begged.

“I... I haven't used that skill since the Equalists rose,” Lee said slowly. “Living in the Dragon Flats isn't easy, Taraka, especially for a non-bender who's educated enough to dress well but poor enough to walk around the bad part of town every night to get home. There were lessons—in secret, because can you imagine what the triads would do to people who had that kind of knowledge, to take bending away, even temporarily? I did what I had to do to survive.”

Throughout his tirade, Taraka felt a shift. Relief, mixed with guilt, mixed with sadness, then the startling realization that she knew what an elaborate lie looked like. She'd told enough in her lifetime to know. So she pressed her lips to his, trying to convey understanding, an apology for misunderstanding him. It was her own elaborate lie, to counter his.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't know. Let me help you,” she continued. “If I can find a way to defend the non-bending populace in a way that doesn't involve a revolution, perhaps we'll find a more peaceful way to bring about that change Amon is so keen on. Tenzin is particularly eager to smooth out the city's troubles, the pacifist that he is, and I can swallow my pride and get his help if it means saving who we can.”

Lee gave her an almost frighteningly serious look, and with the same gravity, lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles gratefully. “It would mean the world to me,” Lee said, his rasping voice giving Taraka pause. She knew Lee's voice, of course, but it sounded familiar when he spoke this way, like it belonged to someone else. She would figure it out later, but for now, she had to focus on convincing him that she was on his side.

Even if it was clear to her, at this point, that he had never been on hers.

 

* * *

 

 

There was some ragtime playing on the radio when Taraka came to the gym. She watched as the three teens practiced on fluttering paper targets and nets, leaning against the wall and patiently waiting for them to finish.

It was the earthbender (Bolin, Taraka remembered from Korra's colorful stories) who spotted her first.

“Whoa, hey, guys! We got company!” he said loudly, and Korra was quick to drop her helmet, a huge grin on her face as she jogged over to greet her.

“Taraka! It's so good to see you! I didn't expect you to visit me here,” she said, her good mood infectious. Korra nearly toppled her over with the enthusiasm of her hug, but released her quickly, apologizing. “Sorry, sorry! Sweaty.”

Taraka chose not to comment that the sweat was much less of a problem than Korra's alarming physical strength, the hug making her feel like her lungs were being crushed.

“It's alright. I've had my fair share of hard workouts. So this is how the esteemed pro-bending Avatar spends her practices,” Taraka observed.

“Yeah, well, with the finals in a few days, we've gotta be at our best. Especially with pretty-boy jerkface Tahno and his stupid Wolfbats,” Korra said, bending an earth disk into a net to illustrate her point.

“So you need to step up your game?” Taraka said wryly.

“I have stepped up my game!”

“Oh really? Because I expected a lot more waterbending prowess from the Avatar who learned from masters,” Taraka teased. Korra frowned.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not bad, but not too impressive, if you're looking to win,” Taraka said.

“You didn't see her in the last match! She knocked out all three players in the last ten seconds, it was amazing!” Bolin interjected before sheepishly backing out. “Whoops, sorry. Don't wanna interrupt your, uh, important conversation. Because, you know, you're important and Korra's important and... yeah... sorry.”

“Bolin, it's okay,” Korra said, amused. “Taraka may be a Councilwoman but she's a friend, too. I talk to her about a ton of stuff.”

“Ohhh! So um, do you talk about us, too?”

“Well I certainly hear a lot about how you keep the team together, working like a well-oiled machine,” Taraka said brightly.

“She said _that_ about me? You said that about me?” Bolin said, switching between Taraka and Korra while Mako approached, looking suspicious.

“And you must be Mako. Korra talks quite a bit about you as well. It's nice to meet you,” Taraka greeted, holding back a snort when Korra's dark cheeks turned darker and quite a bit redder.

“Good to meet you as well,” Mako said seriously. “I was there when you took down those triad thugs down on Hei Bai road years back. A lot of firebenders were pretty terrified of you after that.”

“Really now? Well as long as you weren't running around with gangs, you were safe,” Taraka said lightheartedly. Immediately, Bolin coughed more times than could be considered realistic, and then changed the subject rapidly enough for Taraka to figure out another fact about the brothers who'd made friends with the Avatar.

“So, um, if you need Korra for some, some important Council business or Avatar stuff, me and Mako could head out?”

“Not at all,” Taraka said. “I'd love to see how you pro-benders do your thing. Especially you, Korra.”

“Oh. Well, we could do a demonstration. Right, Mako?”

“Right, of course,” Mako said flippantly. Taraka laughed inwardly. No wonder Korra favored this one. Cool as ice with a show of measured indifference, with the added bonus of being good-looking, he was clearly a heartbreaker.

After their show of practice-level prowess, Taraka clapped Korra on the shoulder and said, “Impressive. Your power may need work, though.”

“What're you talking about? Her power was great,” Mako defended.

“It was great, yes, but Korra's got a lot of untapped potential,” Taraka replied. She smiled at Korra. “You proved it in your last match, didn't you? A little more momentum and your water blasts could really make a difference.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Then, as an afterthought, Taraka added, “Let me show you.”

Stepping into the space Korra vacated a good distance from the painted straw target, Taraka brought up enough water to circle her. It only took a few seconds of knife-sharp focus for it to reach alarming speeds, and with an extended arm to guide it and a harsh flick of her wrist, it shot towards the target with so much power that it ripped a hole through the center of the fabric and practically flipped the whole thing over with the force of the blow.

When she looked back at the teens, their faces were plastered with looks of shock and awe.

“How did you... that was amazing, Taraka!” Korra said.

“You practically destroyed it!” Bolin said triumphantly.

“I'll pay for damages,” Taraka said automatically.

“You have _got_ to teach me that move!” Korra said.

“It was kind of like what you did, Korra, only like, faster and more violent,” Bolin said cheerfully.

“I'll be glad to show you the motions for it,” Taraka said. And she was, indeed, glad. She came to take her mind off things, and this was the perfect distraction.

She spent the next half hour guiding Korra through the stances, then telling her, over and over again, to concentrate on the water as an extension of herself, and to not let her concentration fail for a moment.

Korra was good at the physical stuff, but concentrating didn't seem to be her strongest suit. Still, at the end of it all, she was able to knock the target down quicker than she was used to, and thanked Taraka with another bone-crushing hug.

At the end of the day, when Korra was preparing to return to Air Temple Island, she kept glancing to Taraka, an internal debate that amused Taraka for only so long before she finally sighed. “What is it, Korra?”

“Well, you're better now, right? I mean, after what happened with the party a couple of days ago... Tenzin told me to let you get better...”

“Tell Tenzin I appreciate his concern for my welfare,” Taraka said, amused, “but yes, I am feeling much better. As disconcerting as it is, chi-blocking is temporary and I feel just as strong as I always do with my bending.”

“That's great!” Korra said. “Um, there was something else, too. The papers, they said that you had a date to the party, and I remember when you told me about your whole secret relationship thing, and I figure the guy nobody seemed to know about was the guy you're with? So I wanted to get your advice, since you obviously know more about this stuff than I do.”

“You want relationship advice from me?” Taraka said. “But what about Tenzin, or Pema? They have a lovely little marriage with three kids, going on four. Don't you think they're a better reference point than me and my clandestine affairs?”

“Well it's not like I'm looking for tips on how to stay married,” Korra said, smirking. “Just... how do you make a relationship work? I mean, if it's new and uncertain? How do you know you won't screw it up?”

Taraka frowned. Thinking about it now, she definitely wasn't the one to ask about how not to screw a relationship up.

“You don't know,” Taraka said honestly. “And a lot of the things that could go wrong probably will at some point.”

Korra deflated. “Then why bother?” she wondered aloud.

Taraka smiled bitterly. “Because the feeling you get when you're looking at the one you love, knowing that he loves you... It's addicting. Not something you can let go once you've got it.”

Korra nodded with the understanding of somebody who had yet to experience what was described to her, but who hoped she would one day.

“What's he like?” she asked curiously.

Taraka rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“He's sweet, and kind. He has a strong sense of justice. Handsome. Loving. Skilled and strong,” Taraka said. _All these, and a liar, an Equalist,_ she thought. _An Equalist who loves me._

“He does what he believes is right. Even if it means putting himself in danger to protect people. I couldn't have asked for a better man.”

“I wish you luck with him,” Korra said genuinely.

 _So do I,_ Taraka thought bitterly—though significantly less bitter than she felt before.

She made a decision as she walked out the door, saying goodbye to Korra and feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew what she had to do. She just needed time.

Time, which was lost to her the day the Equalists attacked the pro-bending arena. 


	12. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taraka feels sick and vomits a lot, though not for all the same reasons.

Two days before the attack, Taraka found herself standing in front of Lee's apartment door, the temptation to pick the lock and sneak in hovering constantly on the fringes of her consideration. She didn't knock, not for a while. She was distracted by a small mob gathering on the street by Lee's apartment, chanting and cheering for a flag bearing Amon's mask and crying for non-bender rights.

“Bending scum!” somebody in the crowd shouted, and Taraka's eyes widened when a few of the citizens spotted her, spitting harsh words and insults as they pointed up at her accusingly.

“We don't want you here!”

“What are you doing in our home?!”

“Down with the bending regime!”

They were harmless, she knew. Insults aside, their protest was peaceful, and Taraka didn't have the energy to respond to their taunts.

Her lips pressed together, her nostrils flaring as she breathed, Taraka forced herself to stay calm, imagining the rocking of a boat on water, the constant movement of living water a great comfort to her. She didn't startle when she felt a large hand slip into the crook of her elbow, but it was a close thing. Lee pulled her back from the railing and from the view of the protestors.

“Why didn't you knock?” he asked gently as they crossed the threshold.

“I didn't think you'd be here,” Taraka said.

“But you're here,” Lee pointed out.

“For my own peace of mind,” Taraka sighed.

“What do you mean?” Lee asked suspiciously.

Taraka held a hand out in front of her, palm up. “I'm sorry about before,” she said. “It's none of my business what or who you were before you came to Republic City. Especially if it's that painful to remember. I should have been more sympathetic to... past suffering.”

Lee looked at her hand and eventually covered it with his own.

“I was in love with somebody in my village, somebody who I wasn't supposed to love,” he said. “But then I found out she loved me back, and we were happy. I thought we'd be together forever. And then I hurt her. She trusted me, and I hurt her. I did a terrible thing to her, and then I abandoned her. I never forgave myself for that... until I met you. I knew I had to forget about the past if I was going to see a future with you.”

Taraka flinched. She didn't want to hear about his devotion, his love. She didn't want to hear that of all the things he'd lied about, he didn't lie to her about how he felt. But she knew by now now what a lie looked and sounded like, and this wasn't that.

“Lucky we found each other,” Taraka mused, “or we'd still be chasing ghosts today.”

Lee embraced her and hummed his affirmation into her hair. Taraka cleared her throat, trying not to shy away from his embrace. “So about those laws you wanted me to help with...”

 

* * *

 

 

Taraka was feeling, quite frankly, like shit.

Waking up to vomiting into the toilet certainly didn't help her mood.

The last week, she'd spent in the office with Lee, the two of them trading perspectives as a bender and non-bender, a woman in a position of power and a man who counted himself among the community of Republic City's marginalized.

She knew Tenzin would eat these ideas right up. Ever the pacifist, he was looking for a peaceful way to quell the non-benders' anger.

She also knew that by now, her 'revelation' about Lee's apparent Equalist nature was irrelevant. If she could save Republic City by showing her support for non-benders and discrediting Amon's terrorism, she'd finally achieve what she'd been striving for for over a decade.

Lee wasn't a violent man. He was simply desperate. Pushed, as with the rest of the non-bending civilians, to join the one man who'd spoken out for them. Their loyalty was misplaced, but not entirely unreasonable. Once Taraka cut the head off of the Equalist movement, once she defeated Amon, she might find a future with the man she loved, finally.

Yes, she loved him. She wanted a future with him. If that meant compromises, she'd make them.

Although admittedly, it was difficult to think of her rose-tinted future when she was hacking up her empty stomach so early in the morning.

“And you're sure you didn't eat any bad seafood yesterday?”

“I'm sure,” Taraka said irritably. “If I had, wouldn't I have vomited it out the night before, when it was still in my stomach, and not now when it's already gone through me? Some healer you are.”

“Oh don't you get hissy with me, young lady,” the old healer scolded.

“I'm thirty-six.”

“Yes, and in the pink. Perfectly healthy, even more so than most women your age. I don't understand why you would be experiencing such—wait!”

Taraka jumped. “What? What is it?”

“Have you had relations lately?” the healer demanded, and Taraka's heart skipped a beat, her throat drying almost immediately.

“Lately?”

“In the last month or two, dear.”

“I... yes, but... I've been taking the tea...”

The old healer tutted. “Well it's not a guarantee. Some women take the tea, but it doesn't take effect the way it ought to. Have you not been off your cycle?”

“It's only been a month!” Taraka said. “I'm late by a few days, but I thought that was just stress.”

“Could be, could be. Well, we might have to wait another week to make sure,” said the healer, “but that's the likeliest explanation. I could have the apothecary bring up some alternatives to bring your cycle about, but it's no sure thing. If it's only been a month, I won't be able to tell for sure. Waterbending can only do so much. If you're lucky, it's just stress, and you'll be bleeding again any day now.”

Taraka nodded numbly. When she got into her vehicle after the appointment, her knuckles nearly white as she clutched the wheel, she thought about what the healer said about waterbending, and with the gallon she kept in the backseat for emergencies, she focused her energies and held the healing water to her lower stomach.

Healing was something she'd taken up during her studies. She was never truly able to pursue it, and her father favored fighting and bloodbending more than healing arts, but the basics remained. With the soft glow of the water, and the thrum of bloodbending that she barely ever used anymore, she felt for anomalies in her body.

There was something—barely there, but she could sense it, all the same. A change, slow but steady. A sign that something was happening within her, though exactly what, she wasn't certain.

 

* * *

 

Because her appointment was so early, she arrived on time to Council deliberations and found her fellows in varying states of confoundment and terror.

“Did I miss something?” she said quietly.

“I suppose you didn't hear the broadcast this morning?” Tenzin said by way of greeting.

“I had some early business I needed to take care of,” Taraka said. “What happened?”

“Amon,” said Tenzin, and Taraka was sure as anyone who'd trained under Yakone that her blood just dropped in temperature, running cold at the mention of the Equalist leader's name.

“What about Amon?” she said through clenched teeth.

“He announced over the radio this morning that he'd be making an example of tonight's pro-bending finals, and threatened an attack if we didn't shut the arena down.”

Taraka grimaced. “Korra's not going to be happy about this,” she said, and Tenzin sighed in agreement.

“I expect we'll be hearing from her soon enou—”

Barely finished with his sentence, Tenzin jumped and Taraka flinched when the doors slammed open and Korra practically charged into the room, trailing Mako and Bolin behind her.

“You can't cancel the finals!” Korra said.

“No, Korra. I know that this means a lot to you, but we can't put citizens at risk after what Amon has done in the past,” Tenzin said tersely.

“What about the rest of you?” Korra demanded. “Taraka, there's no way you're backing down from Amon, right?”

Taraka frowned. “Actually, Tenzin and I agree for once. Korra, it's too dangerous to disregard a direct threat.”

“I thought you of all people would try to take a stand!” she said.

“I _am_ taking a stand,” Taraka said firmly. “Have you forgotten that I was _there_ when Amon's Equalists took my task force deputies? He isn't playing around, Korra, and if he's threatening the arena, you can be sure he won't be so kind to those who'd defy him.”

Korra looked chastised, and Taraka couldn't bring herself to exercise her usual patience as she picked up the gavel.

“If you close the arena,” Korra said. “You're letting Amon win.” 

“I'm sorry, but our decision has been made,” Taraka said, raising the gavel. “This meeting is—”

She was quite proud of herself for not dropping the handle when the metal whip cracked her gavel clean in half. Taraka bit the inside of her mouth and worried it as Lin Beifong walked in.

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with the Avatar,” said the chief of police, completely blindsiding Taraka and the rest of the Council. 

Taraka looked down at the broken gavel in her hands, and an idea struck her as Lin and Tenzin argued their usual arguments under the pretense of discussing the issue at hand.

“Just a moment, Tenzin,” Taraka said. “Let us... hear what our _esteemed_ Chief of Police has in mind.”

As Lin outlined her plan, Taraka could see her own becoming more and more concrete. Lin Beifong would take charge of the situation with Amon while she held down the fort. Should Lin fail, Taraka would be able to exercise full control over the situation with the Equalists, needing neither the approval of the Council nor that of Lin herself, her position as Chairwoman strengthened by the public's urgency. Should Lin succeed, they would deal a heavy blow against Amon and his forces, and they would have the justification they needed to continue on their path to victory.

It was a great risk, one Taraka herself was not going to take, but one she would benefit from, all the same.

“It's hard to argue with Chief Beifong's track record,” Taraka said. “If she's confident her elite officers can take charge of the situation in the arena, she has my vote.” 

With that, every other Councilman and Councilwoman changed their own vote to match hers, all but Tenzin, who looked away in disappointment and dread.

Taraka almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

 


	13. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which opportunities arise and Taraka and Lee clear the air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got a big writing boost from rewatching Season 1 :) Hope you guys are still hanging on!

She managed not to throw up for the rest of the day (if you didn't count dry-heaving a few times in the bathroom after the morning's meeting), a small feat in itself. She was to stay in her office that night, listening to the match over the radio as she finalized the laws which would strengthen non-bender executive rights within the city. All she needed was the approval of the rest of the Council, something she'd have to wait to get should Amon keep his promise and attack.

She wondered what Lee was doing that day. The idea of her being newly pregnant filled her with dread, but no more than the idea of confirming it and deciding whether or not to tell Lee. It couldn't have been anyone else, anyway. For all that her rumored dalliances fit her decisive, “what I want, I get” persona, she had no one else to share her bed but him.

Right as the match began, she called on somebody she knew could help her with her legislative woes.

“Varrick, how confident are you that you can bribe a few well-meaning Council members into passing some newly written laws for me?”

“Do you even know who you're talking to right now, Taraka? That's pocket change! But what's in it for me if I do?”

“We're only talking hypotheticals right now, Varrick. Don't get ahead of yourself,” Taraka said.

“You wouldn't have called me on hypotheticals, Taraka! Come on now.”

“Alright,” Taraka sighed. “It's a bill I need to pass improving non-bender rights. One of the provisions includes giving a non-bender representative to Republic City a seat on the Council. If you could find somebody that won't make trouble...”

“Oh, well now, the Councilwoman actually showing concern for little ol' non-benders like myself? This is a historical day. I know a few guys who're smart enough to know which asses to kiss and which boss they need to follow, but I gotta ask again—”

“What's in it for you?” Taraka repeated, amused.

“You got it!”

“I'm Chairwoman of this Council, but with a good, solid bill and the confidence of the people of this city,” Taraka said, speaking clearly in her practiced politician's surety, “and with the recent... crises we've experienced, the public is going to expect somebody to step up as a good, reliable, and fearless leader in the face of the Equalist threat.”

“And of course, who better than the only one on the Council with spine?” Varrick said, his usually annoyingly jovial voice lowered to the wry, knowing tone that Taraka knew to be threatened by.

“You know I'm right, Varrick,” said Taraka.

“Oh, I know,” Varrick said. “Turn on your radio, Taraka. You know what you'll hear?”

Taraka stopped to switch the small portable radio on the table on, adjusting the dial as the news report came, that of Equalists attacking the arena.

“Opportunity,” Taraka breathed.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, Councilwoman,” Varrick said, the smirk wholly evident in his voice.

 

* * *

 

When Taraka found an empty apartment that night, she couldn't even bring herself to be surprised. She sat herself down on the bed in the room, hand on her stomach as it roiled and then down lower where there was nothing substantial as of yet, despite her body already feeling the change.

She'd never tried for children before, and she'd always been careful in her rare trysts, using sheaths and healing arts she learned from masters in the North, so that she would not risk even a week beyond possible conception.

It seemed as though love had made her less careful.

Even now, she couldn't decide if she would simply nip it in the bud—she could force bleeding with her bloodbending and be done with the whole matter. But the thought made her feel ill—not the procedure, but the context in which it would be done.

She _wanted_ this child, and the revelation disturbed her. 

She sat there in the dark for a very long time, sleeping through the night and waking to nobody. Only when she prepared herself coffee and set to leaving did the door open, well into morning, and the apartment's sole inhabitant until recently entered.

A lesser man would have staggered from the exhaustion evident on his face, and though he clearly did not expect to see Taraka there, he looked less shocked and more resigned.

“You look awful,” she said by way of greeting, rising to take his arm. He looked wary, even as he allowed her to lead him to sit at the table. She poured him a cup of coffee, which he sniffed before drinking, closing his eyes without ever taking his attention off Taraka, who was sitting in the opposite chair. 

They sat in silence for a little while, Lee polishing off his cup before Taraka spoke again.

“You were at the arena last night?” she said, phrasing it s a question, though they both knew she was stating a fact rather than giving inquiry. 

Lee said nothing, as if deciding whether to lie or not, as if his silence weren't answer enough.

“You're a chi-blocker,” Taraka continued. “And... you're an Equalist. Aren't you?” 

“Yes,” Lee said after only a few short moments, answering more readily than Taraka expected, sighing in defeat. “I am.” 

She took a sip of her coffee, blandly considering that she might no longer have the chance to drink it further into her progressing pregnancy.

“When I asked for a secret, I didn't expect this,” she said casually. “Or maybe I did. Maybe I was just lying to myself.” 

Lee watched her silently, waiting for her next move. She got up, and he tensed, but all she did was walk over, place a hand on his shoulder, settle between his legs, and kiss him. He responded with something that Taraka thought might have been relief.

She pulled away from the kiss, only to lean closer and whisper, “I love you, Lee. Do you believe me?”

A short pause, and he nodded.

“But as the head of a task force striking against Equalists, it's my duty to arrest you,” she continued, though he did not flinch at her words. 

“After Amon's last attack, the one on the arena, there will be a city-wide sweep to seek out and take down any and all efforts in support of Equalists. People will, inevitably, get caught in the crossfire. People could get hurt—especially those who fight back,” she continued. “You know that, don't you?” 

Another nod.

“I don't... I don't want you hurt,” she confessed, her tone falling to something more vulnerable, and wholly, painfully honest. “But I cannot, in good conscience, let you go, knowing that not only are you an Equalist—but you're an active member, and a skillful chi-blocker at that.”

“I understand that,” Lee said softly. “I do. But you can't expect me to sit by and do nothing, especially when you're out there putting yourself at risk.”

“It won't last,” Taraka said. “If I... If I asked you to stay out of the way until this is over, would you do it?” 

There was a long silence as Lee considered his answer. 

Finally, 

“No. I couldn't,” he sighed. 

“Well I suppose we're at an impasse here,” Taraka sighed in turn, rubbing her face. “I want to help, but I can do nothing while Amon still runs around inciting people into war. Those laws we put together... they could really do some good, Lee. But with Amon telling them they shouldn't settle for anything less than the annihilation of all bending, nobody will back it. I need... I need to stop Amon, before it's too late to change anything.” 

Lee looked down, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Then he looked up and said, quietly, “I know what to do. But it's a bold move.” 

Taraka gave him a lopsided smile. “I know no other way to move, as well as you know.” 

Lee smiled, but Taraka wasn't looking, and didn't see how tainted the smile really was. 

 


End file.
